


Ceasefire, Futile

by 200percent_inlove



Category: K-pop, Red Velvet (K-pop Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Grocery Store, Bickering JungRi makes their debut!, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Falling In Love, Love/Hate, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 05:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 60,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17656445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/200percent_inlove/pseuds/200percent_inlove
Summary: When the annoyingly cute ex-crush, Jeon Jung-Kook, wages verbal assault out of nowhere just because Kim Ye-Rim has less-than-healthy grocery store selections in her shopping cart, of course, the only method to resolve this is to fight fire with fire.University, grocery store AU.





	1. Rim.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally planned as a one-shot, and then I realized, a squabbling JungRi is something that I take much joy in writing about. LOL. Hope you enjoy! :3

Kim Ye-Rim is nineteen. 

And being nineteen means a lot of things, such as – but not limited to – being young, drinking copious amounts of coffee that make cute café baristas question whether her veins supplied caffeine and plasma, making poor choices for hair dye, improperly balancing her weekly schedule with volunteering sessions at coding camps for rambunctious children and last but not least, slowly accepting the painful, cold truth that being severely overworked as a chemical engineering student was a highly-prized quality for potential employers.

Not surprisingly, Kim Ye-Rim has her fair share of terrible, stressful days.

Well, terrible _was_ perhaps an exaggeration. Unlike most of her classmates, she was still surviving with an A- average. Not bad for someone who slept through high school trigonometry.

Stress, on the other hand, was a relentless constant that seemed to pop up on her very first day of college, and the worst part was, the motherfucker didn’t seem _at all_ in a hurry to leave.  It manifested in the form of heavy, dark bags underneath her eyes that even the strongest concealer – a Japanese brand recommended by Seulgi – couldn’t hide her panda-like complexion. Her once supple skin was now dry and crusty, shriveled to the texture of a dried raisin, while Joo-Hyun _unni_ – despite being nearly a decade older – maintained a radiant, dewy glow.  And don’t even get her _started_ on her luscious long locks of blonde and pink:  She’s finding evidence of excessive hair loss in her brushes, on her pillows – and even in her _food_ , for God’s sake.

And inevitably, Ye-Rim’s aware that being exposed to tumultuous amounts of pressure – sitting uncomfortably on her shoulders – will lead to regretful life decisions being made.

Does she give a damning fuck, though? No. _Of course not_.

Which is why walking into the 24/7 grocery store down the hill from her apartment on a Friday night (Close to midnight, which was the optimal time to go grocery shopping) to debate over a packet of raspberries or a 500 mL tub of Haagen-Daz’s peanut butter chocolate ice-cream, wearing a dirty hoodie and glasses that kept sliding down her oily nose, was perfectly acceptable.

This really shouldn’t take an hour and a half, but it has. Her brain reprimands her glutton of a stomach that engorging on high-calorie foods shouldn’t be acceptable at this time, but her stomach shoots back with a starving growl, along with a message that fiber-full alternatives were not going to suffice.

Ye-Rim was stuck in an impasse. And her friends have been absolutely no help in the matter whatsoever.

 _Kang Seulgi_  
_Rim. Do as Jiminie says, and YOLO the hell out of this Friday night. You deserve it._

Ye-Rim resists the urge to roll her eyes. Ever since her _unni_ started dating Park Jimin two months ago, she’s quickly adopted his carefree mindset and started integrating bits and pieces of his lingo into her daily conversations. ‘Yes’ now auto-corrected to ‘YOLO’ in her phone, and ‘AF’ was now used regularly. Somewhat endearing, Ye-Rim presumes as she scrolls through the past few messages in the group chat.

 _Son Seung-Hwan  
_ _As a future dietitian, I would recommend otherwise. Rim, ask yourself. Is this really something you need in the middle of the night, or is it just that ball of stress calling for extra fats?_

Ye-Rim actually _rolls_ her eyes, because she already receives an earful from her mother on a weekly basis regarding salads, vegetables and the best method to tell when avocados are ripe. Seung-Hwan’s less intense in that regard, but does like to remind Ye-Rim to add less salt to her food and drink more water after comparing her fatigued body to a wilting tree.  It’s nice having a friend who shows so much concern, but really, she didn’t need a second mom.

 _Park Soo-Young  
_ _Let her be and enjoy ice-cream in bed. Her ultra-fast metabolism will get rid of that, no problem._

“ _THANK_ -you!” Ye-Rim exclaims exasperatedly to no one other than Park Hyo-Shin softly serenading her through the speakers.

 _Bae Joo-Hyun  
_ _Agreed. Rim, do what you want. It’s the weekend and you had three papers and a midterm this week. Treat yourself a little!_

Bless Bae Joo-Hyun.  What an angelic saint.

So, feigning guilty reluctance (But _not too much_ to make her second guess her decision), she returns the raspberries, and ends up walking into the dreaded junk food aisle to throw a package of banana split-flavoured Oreos, a King-sized bag of peanut M&M’s, six cups of instant _ramen_ and a bag of Cheetohs into the metal cart.

Seung-Hwan was guaranteed to have a heart attack from the horrific sight. Processed sugar, specialty dye number twenty-five and artificial flavorings galore.

The one security guard, not much older than her with a poofy red-tinged bowl cut, standing sleepily at the entrance, scornfully glances at her items, and then back at her with a questioning – almost judgmental – expression on his face.

She knows that face.  Her mother delivers that _’Are you serious?’_ glaze perfectly.  He must’ve come to two conclusions:  One, she was either nursing a broken heart or two, she didn’t mind a mouthful of rotting teeth. But it’s not like she cared about the haggard-looking stranger. Recalling Joo-Hyun's encouragement from earlier, she nods affirmatively to herself that _yes_ , it’s fine to splurge occasionally – even if her waistline will grow a tad bit tighter the next morning.             

Late Friday evenings often equated to a store that was virtually empty and silent, which she liked. On the downside, that also meant that only one check-out counter was open, beckoning her with the flashing number four. Heading over, she places her items quickly onto the conveyor belt before fishing for her wallet in her jacket pocket.

“And how will you be paying today, Rim?”

She looks up at the sound of the rich tenor invading her ears, and within seconds, feels her entire being tense and her face grow embarrassingly pink. Any nagging tiredness that she felt before completely vanished.

Because this wasn’t the lethargic and pimply high schooler that worked graveyard shifts and hastily tossed her items into her reusable shopping bags and regularly forgot to give her the receipt. Not at all. 

The first thing that pops into her mind was, _God, he’s still terribly attractive._ That high nose bridge that resembled a perfect ski slope.  His sharp almond-brown eyes that surveyed her up and down.  The structured jawline, rugged and rough with small sunspots and a few acne scars, that reminded Ye-Rim of imperfect sculptured art. Two lobe piercings and a helix on his right ear. His pink lips that were now upturning into a charming, roguish grin that made her heart beat in double time. And his _hair,_ Jesus. The reddish-purple combination that was tousled messily, this way and that. 

Three years since she’s seen him in the flesh, and despite the rather drastic change in his outer appearance – from a geeky, spectacles-wearing video gamer to the stereotypical bad boy who worked the grayed evergreen apron rather well – there was no way she wouldn’t recognize him in a heartbeat.

“Jeon Jung-Kook.” Or, more infamously, _‘the some that never went anywhere’_.   Standing now, a mere foot away behind the counter waiting patiently with an eyebrow quirked upwards and a curious hand resting dangerously close onto the panel.

“Yes, Kim Ye-Rim.  May I remind you that it's not polite to call me by my full name, without the honorifics?” He's always been an obnoxious tease. A low, growling chuckle rumbles throatily when he calls her name, and Ye-Rim wants to beat herself in the face for the uncomfortably satisfying fluttering she feels in her stomach. Waving her flabbergasted gasp aside, he adds, “But, it's you. I'll always be at your service.”   

When Soo-Young was in her graduating year and Ye-Rim herself at the very bottom of the high school food chain, she always called him the Korean male Medusa. And for good reason. He enunciates every single syllable to her name with a satisfactory click of his tongue, leaving Ye-Rim perpetually woozy and intoxicated. 

Great, it’s not just his voice that lulled her back to her high school memories of peeking at him behind thick volumes of books. She’s getting drunk from the mild Downy detergent emitting off his clothes.  No need for vodka shots, anymore.

“So, which will it be?” Jung-Kook repeats, tapping the counter loudly. “Card or cash?”

“Um, c-credit.”

“Great.”

Expertly, he scans her first item without a care in the world, while a whirlwind of questions invades Ye-Rim’s head. First, _why_ was he here? For fuck’s sake, she’s never seen him here – and if she did catch a glimpse of an old fling (Who was so damningly cute then, and ethereally beautiful now), mark her words, she would’ve avoided the store altogether.

Second, why was he so _nonchalant_ about this? His steely coolness, as much as the younger girl loathes to admit, _bothered_ her. Here she is, mouth dry with an impossibly large lump hindering her ability to make general small talk, and here _he_ is, acting like their one year of push and pull, their one year of near-miss kisses and hand-holding, one year of mockery and teasing, had never happened.

Regardless, they had a _thing_ , damnit.

But then again, that also begs the final question of, _why_ was she so concerningly disturbed by this in the first place? She’s an adult now.  Young adult, to be precise, but _still_ , an adult, nonetheless.  She’s dated plenty ever since then.  And besides, high school made up only a very small portion of her life.  There’s no need to get restless over old recollections with a crush that wasn’t meant to be. 

It’s that simple. 

Feeling significantly better after sucking in a deep breath, she keeps her lips pressed together into a firm line and shuts her eyes tightly for a fleeting moment.  Just enough to mumble a quick, inaudible prayer that the next minute or so will pass her by with no hiccoughs and that she won’t look like a gapping fish and embarrass herself by spewing out stupidity.

All she must do is tap and go.  And then, she’ll rush on up back to her apartment, dig into her snacks and make a mental note to herself to never walk down the hill to this grocery store despite the convenience.  Tap and go.  Tap and go.  Tap and –   

Jung-Kook breaks the ice first with a flick of his head and a grin full of teeth when he grabs her recyclable bags, opening them up. “So, what’s new, Rim?  It’s been awhile.”

 _Fuck_.

Clearly, he’s not in a rush to scan her items.  The ice-cream container was starting to develop droplets of condensation. 

Ye-Rim knows based on the way he’s behaving:  He’s deliberately taking his time here.  He did this back then, too, whenever he stole her backpack from her grasp and slung it carelessly over his shoulder, just so that they embark on the longer route back home. 

But this time around, she’s not quite sure why he’s doing this.  She reasons (Well, attempts to without hyperventilating) that he’s most likely just bored out of his wits.  Graveyard shifts are tough to endure, after all.  He probably wants someone to entertain him for five minutes, tops.  That’s all.  Small talk.  Plain, old small talk.    

“Um, y-yeah, it has.”  And of course, she _has_ to stammer like a gibbering idiot, completely incapable of forming proper words without ‘ _ums_ ’ or ‘ _ohs_ ’ or ‘ _uhs_ ’.  God, her high school teacher would be so ashamed to see her now.  So instead, she presses hard on the tip of her tongue with her front teeth until she tastes the metallic flavor of blood in her mouth. If she stays mute, maybe – just maybe with a small glimmer of hope – he won’t try to probe anything out of her.  Tap and go.  Remember the _‘tap and go’_.  “I um, I’m good? How are you?”

Perfect tactic:  Sticking to short, curt sentences just enough to be polite without arousing suspicion.

“I’ve been good, by the way, thanks for asking,” Jung-Kook continues airily.  _Beep.  Beep._ Three more items.  Almost halfway there.  “I’m in my third year at _Yonsei_ right now as a sociology student."

Ye-Rim secretly grimaces. She's not stupid; she's well-equipped with a laptop computer and was perfectly aware through social media where he was studying - and whom he had been dating for the past two years, mind you. There was an exchange student, cheerful and smiley with bangs that hit her eyebrows and a dimple hiding in her right cheek, from Thailand (Lisa, if she remembers correctly), and then a petite, fairy-like vocal major with a bob that highlighted her demure facial features brilliantly. Lord, Ye-Rim now feels terribly underdressed - even though it was only a midnight run to the store. "I’m hoping to apply to law school after I graduate.”        

She desperately wants to grab ahold of his shoulders, shake him violently and scream with all the air in her lungs, _Kookpa, enough with the short, stilted conversations and just let me go!_

But, a lawyer, huh? Ye-Rim finds herself unconsciously nodding in approval at his answer.  Jung-Kook did have a knack for arguing with others, and somehow winning in most cases.  He used to tell her debating over world issues was just a hobby, but kudo to him for seeing that he can use his passions to make a living.

“That’s um, that’s good.  You did like to squabble back then.”

 _Beep._ One more item.  Tap and go.  The cookies were yelling, _‘Bag me, bag me’_.

“While it's touching you remember my old habits, I’d like to disagree.  Contrarily, it’s called making productive discussions.” Jung-Kook smirks smugly.  “Like now.”

She’s not expecting this.  It catches her so off guard, she ends up dropping her credit card onto the counter. Jung-Kook presses it firmly into her open palm, and her hand unmistakably jolts from the tiny callouses that brushes against her skin. “Uh, what?”

“Y’know, sweetheart.  I really hate to break it to you,” He continues breezily with a theatrical sigh and his hands resting on his hips.  “But you’ve got to add some Vitamin C in here.”

She blinks.  The first time, blankly.  Her brain is too fatigued to decipher the subliminal message in his words.

“I’m not supposed to give you my opinion, you see,” He explains matter-of-factly as if this were all common sense.  Eyes flashing teasingly, he adds softly, “But really, Rim, you’re going to swell like a balloon the next day if you eat too much of this.” 

She blinks again.  And the seething look of deadly malice that she delivers is clearly telling that she’s forgotten all her politeness.  To hell with pleasantries.  He just did the unthinkable.  And for Kim Ye-Rim, nobody was immune from her wrath when somebody backhandedly insulted her food choices - even if it was her past " _Will-they-or-_ wo _n't-they_ " counterpart.  She’s an engineer, for God’s sake.  Stressfully eating away her feelings was second nature in this type of profession.

“Look, Kook,” She snaps furiously, and Jung-Kook’s puppy-dog eyes shimmering alight as if he was inexplicably entertained by her anger. Really, that just made her even more furious. “Who asked **_YOU_**!? Do you speak to all of your customers this way?”

“Well, no,” He admits with a chuckle. He’s trying hard to keep himself professional from bursting into loud laughter, but his shoulders were starting to quiver. And Ye-Rim _really_ wants to fling that stray bag of oranges into his face like a Nunchuk. “I don’t do this often. I only do it to the people that I find fun to tease.”

“Kook, you keep your smart-ass attitude up and you’re going to be jobless.” The black pen (Never underestimate the power of a writing utensil) and the yellow stack of ‘HOW DID WE DO TODAY?’ forms to her left were starting to look mighty attractive. “I don’t give a damn if you end up fired. I’m going to report this to your manager!”

“Go ahead. I’m not fazed.”

He performs a 180 and then returns to full circle with his name tag pinned precariously to the left side of his chest. Bowing lowly, he grins, satisfied with Ye-Rim's thunderstruck expression. As if her dignity hadn’t suffered enough, the cherry on top that followed delivered a gut-wrenching, devastating K.O.

“Hi there. I’m the assistant manager. How may I help you?”    

Her day had been mildly terrible.  

First, her midterm marks come back, and she barely scraped by with a D.  Then, she had to endure a brief scolding from Seung-Hwan that she shouldn’t be having high-calorie desserts at midnight.  And then, _this_ :  Meeting an old high school _some_ that, not only was he now a bloody handsome git, but also had to destroy her remaining self-respect with his patronizing, toffy-nosed taunting and a _nametag_ demonstrating his superiority.

Now, it actually _was_ full-on terrible.

Tapping her card a bit too roughly against the reader, she snarls, “I’m going to make you regret ever saying all that shit. Kook, fuck – **_YOU_**.”

“I’m flattered, Rim,” Jung-Kook replies with an air of prideful arrogance. “I’d fuck me, too.”

“T-that’s not what I – !”

Winking at her playfully, he hands her the small slip of paper and she snatches it from his fingers, cheeks burning from humiliation. “See you next Friday.”

“Just – get your damn name tag fixed!”

Huffily storming out into the cold air whipping against her face, she makes a quick dash for her apartment, arriving in no time at all. Slamming the front door shut (With her neighbours knocking from the other side to keep the noise to a minimum), she kicks off her shoes and pulls out a semi-clean spoon. She isn’t going to bother portioning out two helping scoopfuls into a bowl as her mother taught her.  Tearing her candy and cookies open, she violently digs a giant spoon into her ice-cream, as if wrenching a deep, ugly hole into her treat would make her feel better.

_(It did. Just not by much.)_

You know what? Completely disregard the fact that she ever harbored doting feelings for the damn man.

Forget the Mount Everest-like nose bridge.  And his glistening eyes that reminded her of the brightest star in Ursa Major.  And forget his lips – they were dry and crackly, and Ye-Rim knows with a hundred percent certainty that he was a terrible kisser.  She’s counting her lucky blessings that he wasn’t her first. 

And while she’s at it, _fuck_ his impeccable hairstyle too.


	2. Kook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This...somehow escalated from writing about Kook giving Ye-Rim juice samples to try...to a full-fledged food fight. I think the latter is more exciting, right? LOL. Hope you enjoy! c:

The chilly November air hits Jung-Kook in a powerful frigid punch when the automatic doors burst open, and the petite blonde blurs past him, disappearing without a trace. Chuckling amusedly at her ostentatious escape before running a hand through his hair, Jung-Kook spares a glance at the baffled Yoongi whom, due to poor timing and fate that he was scheduled for this particular shift,  _just_  witnessed the entire ordeal.   

The disapproving frown on the older man’s boyish face was enough to make Jung-Kook groan.   

Discarding the small piece of plastic from his chest (His life savior in dire times when irate customers lose their cool over rotten cabbage), he saunters over to the redhead:  Still scowling, still perpetually disappointed. Yoongi- _hyung_  really needs to learn how to take a joke.  

“I know, I know, you don’t have to say it.” He holds up a hand to spare Yoongi his breath. “I’m mean and terrible and I should be stripped of my seniority.”  

“I don’t know, man. Mean doesn’t do your behaviour justice, just sayin’. You were literally giving her – what was her name?  ** _Rim_**? - straight up hell right there,” Yoongi says shortly in that voice of his that often irked Jung-Kook to no end.  It wasn’t necessarily setting him straight, but it came close. Maybe, a cross between shame and chastising? Inevitably, he does have to commend his older friend for his uncanny ability to cause discomfort with  _just_  his voice.  

“Yeah, so?” Jung-Kook counters with a snort, tossing a few unwanted apples back into the overflowing bin. “It’s just a small piece of my personality that I show around people that are easily frazzled.  _Ye_ -Rim is an exemplary model. Ask Rosie, too. I do it to her all the dang time.” Rosé – Park Chae-Young – was the newly-hired cashier with flaming-red hair and eyes that formed crescent moons whenever she smiled. Jung-Kook enjoyed her likable company and her cheerful, vitamin-like personality (Such a contrast with the ever-bitter, sharp-tongued Ye-Rim), battling together against the wrathful clientele that frequented the store.  

What he didn’t (Or, as Yoongi observes,  _couldn’t_ ) differentiate was that the girl often shot heart eyes in his direction whenever they shared shifts. And regardless of whatever rude remark slipped off his tongue (“ _Ma’am, your brain is astonishingly similar to the interior of a coconut_ ”), she found all of them forthright and – in her words –  _debonair_. Such dated  _language_. 

It didn’t matter how blatantly obvious she was; the younger man simply lacked the perception to sense her fondness towards him.   

“Please, Kook. Rosie doesn’t count ‘cause she eats up everything you say and lacks the ability to discern your light-hearted teasing from signs of mutual attraction.” Yoongi unzips his jacket, pulling it off just as his replacement passes through the entrance to take over. “Anyway, that's not the point. You weren’t just being rude, Kook. It’s like - “ 

Yoongi pauses for a moment, clicking his tongue against his teeth before finishing, clearly beat, “A rather twisted, fucked up version of flirting.”      

“ _Hyung_ , I’m not some inexperienced twerp. I’ve dated some over the years, and rest assured, flirting does not encompass shitting on someone else’s food choices.” Jung-Kook articulates his thoughts with an air of haughtiness. Very matter-of-factly, mind you. “I’ve known Rim since she was in  _high school_. Trust me when I say she desperately needs someone to tell her that eating teaspoons of sugar isn’t healthy.” 

Be that as it may, Yoongi deadpans exasperatedly to himself with slightly parted lips, but being someone’s acquaintance for five-ish years (Give or take a few months) wasn’t a plausible excuse to act so  _‘in-your-face'._ Not unless –  

 _Ah._   

Yoongi’s major as a creative writing major often forces him to scribble ludicrous-sounding bullshit onto thick booklets within three hours. Some days (A la, finals week), his brain refused to cooperate. Other days, like now, things come to him in a heartbeat. He’s sorely tempted to dramatize the whole situation with dragons and unicorns in a fictitious world, but the bottom line was:  Rim and Jung-Kook dated.  Or did something close to it. And inevitably, they broke up (Separated, never gave each other a proper resolution). And rather than meeting up to discuss whether a potential friendship could be maintained, the situation turned hostile. 

Now, he wasn’t exactly sure why that was the case. Then again, was that any surprise, though? It doesn’t take a genius to conclude that Rim and Jung-Kook were both hot-headed spitfires with hugely inflated egos that refused to back down. 

With an eyebrow quirking upwards and fingers pressing against his chin in deep thought, he says, “C’mon, Kook. You’re better than that. Don’t hold petty grudges over an old high school flame.”  

Jung-Kook's subsequent reaction (Spluttering and spraying foul-smelling saliva everywhere) was enough of a confirmation. The younger man, now choking haphazardly, can deny this all he wants, but Yoongi is dead certain that he hit the nail on the head.  

(If not directly, then  _close_  to it.)  

“ _H-Hyung_ , t-that was half a decade ago. I’m over it! I am!” Was this reassurance for Yoongi, or for Jung-Kook himself? “I’m just – you  ** _know_**!” Watching the normally cool-as-a-cucumber Jung-Kook's struggle in explaining himself was laughable. 

“No, I don’t know.” Yoongi tosses his ID badge into the small plastic container and then pulls on his Sungkyungkwan University hoodie. “Please. Proceed.” 

“Just tryin’ to be a good, um – person, watching out for her diet!”  

“Pile on the excuses as you may, Kookie,” The redhead smirks knowingly, tossing him a nod. “But here’s my two cents on the matter. Build a damn bridge and get over it before you sacrifice your job over it.” His light-brown eyes twinkle for a split second before he adds slyly, “Not unless, of course, your behaviour stems much deeper than just immature triviality.”   

And with that, Yoongi takes his leave, and Jung-Kook stands completely still with a slew of excuses waiting to erupt ferociously out of his system, but unfortunately, is a tad second too late. What did Yoongi- _hyung_ 's words implicate? That he still  _harboured_  repressed feelings for Rim? And that by deliberately behaving in such an insolent manner, it would make her nostalgic over their abysmal high school pseudo-relationship, and  _possibly_  encourage a second chance? 

 _God_ no _. Definitely_ no _._ He was the one who staged their inconclusive ‘break-up’ back then, after all. How ironic would it be if he wanted her back now?    

Stumbling clumsily into an empty chair, he clutches onto the edge of his seat tightly with clenched white knuckles when the back room door swings open. Kim Nam-Joon – a fellow night shift colleague that sold lottery tickets at the customer service counter – appears, lips curving into a jovial, welcoming grin. His mouth opens up rapidly, firing off greetings and questions that goes in Jung-Kook's ear, and out the other. He’s too caught up in his whirring brain of thoughts, and it isn’t until when the older man clasps his hands roughly on Jung-Kook’s shoulders and gives him a powerful shake that releases him from his daze.  

“Kook?” 

“ ** _OH_**!” Uncharacteristically pitchy:  A tell-tale sign that something was very, very wrong.  “Hi there, Joonie- _hyung_! How are ya?”  

“Kook.” Nam-Joon presses the back of his hand against Jung-Kook's clammy forehead, startled at the amount of perspiration. “I’ve been calling you for like three minutes straight. And now, you’re sweating like a pig. Are you  _sure_  you’re alright?” 

“F-fine! Just um, you know! Sweaty!” 

“In  _here_? But dude, it’s like nineteen deg – “ 

“Do you need help with anything before I leave?!” Jung-Kook chimes in loudly, gently shoving the taller man out the door and into aisle seven (“ **Canned Goods** ”).       

“I um, I just wanted to ask if you closed the shift yet, but I mean, if you’re not feeling well – “ 

“No, no, no! I’m well, I’m uh,  ** _great_**! I’ll help!”  

Nam-Joon watches in alarm as Jung-Kook's trembling fingers shakily counts through the coins and the dollar bills before stuffing them into the automated vault underneath the register, and while he could’ve suggested that Jung-Kook should go home, he knows his efforts would’ve been for naught. Times like these, Nam-Joon sincerely wishes that the younger man was less helpful. 

The thing is, Jung-Kook  _needs_ the distraction:  Be it in the form of hard-earned cash or illegible receipts or the large containers of grapes that he had to throw back onto the shelves. For the most part, it  _did_  work. Methodically counting out the thick wad of yellow, greens and blues was extremely therapeutic, soothing the poor boy’s pumping heart. 

Still, there was no way he would be able to forget the sheer anger that flashed in her eyes and reserved solely for him. No denying it, he thinks to himself smugly when he bids Nam-Joon luck and boards the night bus back to his neighbourhood:  She’s undeniably cuter that way.  

That very evening once he tucked himself comfortably underneath his blankets, Jung-Kook dreamt of Kim Ye-Rim for the first time in nearly five years.  

It wasn’t a very nice one; she had grown ginormous (Over thirty-stories tall), wearing her school uniform with the recognizable mustard-yellow sweater and black skirt, and threatened to squash him into a pancake with the magenta-coloured Converses she often wore. Jung-Kook jolts upward in bed, forehead beaded with sweat, downing the glass of water on his bedside table in one shot.  

Jesus, if that wasn’t foreshadowing of something terrible to happen, he shudders as a shivering chill travels through his body, he didn’t know what would classify as such. 

* * *

 

It was precisely that dream (Premonition, if you will) that made Jung-Kook increasingly edgy the next Friday evening. No doubt, he’s afraid of her reaction if she does stop by, and he has a carrot root tucked underneath the counter for protection:  Perfectly built to fend off anything she hurls in his direction just to spite him. Surprisingly enough, though, there’s a thin sliver of hope (However minuscule it may be) he’s holding onto that they can strike up a pleasant-enough acquaintanceship once more. 

That is, if his foul mouth won’t run amuck when she’s here.  

“Hey.” 

“Thank-you for coming! Please visit again soon!” The last customer in line exits the store with a roast chicken in one hand just about ten after eleven, and Jung-Kook whirls around at the register, directing his full attention towards a smirking Yoongi. 

 _“_ What’s up,  _hyung_?” 

“Let’s make a bet.” 

Hmm. Yoongi never, ever partook in dumb shit like this. Last time when the staff members were placing bets, it was to guess the birthdate, birth weight and gender of another coworkers’ baby. He didn’t even bother to participate.  

(Jung-Kook won by a landslide, by the way:  The sixteenth of October, a gurgling, delightful little girl was born to Kim Seokjin and his glowing wife, weighing in at six pounds and three ounces). 

His change in attitude was rather suspicious, so Jung-Kook asks, “Regarding?” 

“ _Your_  Rim.” 

Grimacing at the rather possessive language, Jung-Kook waggles a finger at Yoongi. “Let us get one thing straight. She’s not  _my_  Rim - “ 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” The older man cuts in, his smirk growing into a teasing snigger.  “I meant to say  _Ye_ -Rim.” 

Of  _course_ , he did. “Fuck you,  _hyung_.” 

“Technicalities aside, how ‘bout this? Five bucks that she comes in today.”  

 _Oh_. So that’s what he’s getting at. Jung-Kook chews on his lower lip, restraining the urge to grin. Letting out a high-pitched whistle, he sings, “I don’t know, buddy. Five bucks is a little less, don’t you think? Let’s increase the stakes to twenty.” 

“Getting cocky, huh? Alright. You’re  _so_  on.”  

Poor, unsuspecting Yoongi is completely unaware that Jung-Kook has this at least ninety percent in the bag.  Ye-Rim’s a creature of habit that preferred structure and disliked spontaneity.  She never took alternative routes home from school until Jung-Kook forced her to. She always carried a planner around, scrawled with never-ending to-do lists with Jung-Kook written as the last priority.   

He was always in awe of her diligence towards her studies, but on some days (Especially when all he wanted was an hour or two with her at a  _bingsu_  café), he, too, felt pushed aside and neglected. Couldn’t she abandon his textbooks to play at the arcade? Couldn’t she put him as a top priority? This isn’t to say that she never did. On the contrary, she made it up to him during his birthdays and when he passed his college entrance exams. But, still. It’s not too much to ask for, is it? 

Sighing, he shakes those bittersweet memories away. He reaches into a cardboard box, pulls out a new roll of paper and sticks it into the receipt printer when he catches a glimpse of the black doors swing open.  

“Wel - “ 

As it turns out, personality traits are rather difficult to change as one aged.  

Off in the distance (About ten meters away), a rather obnoxious ‘FUCK’ resounds. 

And Jung-Kook is now twenty dollars wealthier.  

* * *

 

Ye-Rim doesn’t look delighted in the slightest when Jung-Kook calls out to her loudly. Clearing her throat, she nods towards him curtly, pulling out a navy-blue shopping basket from a nearby stack before stalking off into the dairy section. It’s merely coincidental the first time around when she’s poking around for a yogurt with probiotics in her favourite flavour, and  _he’s_  there, looking for any expired jugs of milk. 

But when she reaches the produce section, she notices the pinkish-haired young man following suit, now examining a row of pineapples stacked neatly in a row a few meters away.  

Ye-Rim can’t help herself. Resigned, she asks, “Can’t you let me do my shopping in peace, Kookpa?” 

Kookpa:  A cross of Jung-Kook and  _‘_ _oppa_ _’_. It’s been years since he’s heard that nickname, but the effect it has on him is tremendous. The comforting warmth heats up his entire being. And even though he is stuck here until three tonight, he’s happy as a clam – elated, even.  

Turning around, he waves a clipboard and a piece of paper around. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Your form is stark blank.” She points out. “As in, it’s just a piece of printer paper with  _nothing_  on it.”  

“Oh, my. And will you look at that? I guess I won’t be needing this anymore.” Tossing it aside, he adds playfully, “A pleasure of seeing you again, sweetheart. Although, I am rather surprised to see the items in your basket. No microwavable dinners tonight?” 

“Don’t you dare ‘sweetheart’ me,” She snaps. A pinkish blush begins to tinge on the apples of her cheeks, and she suddenly busies herself by examining a bag of pre-packaged oranges, hoping for dear life that he didn’t catch her embarrassment. “Your store is the only one within my vicinity that has everything I need.” 

“Oh? And what, exactly, does that entail, hmm? A cure for constipation?” Jung-Kook knows he shouldn’t. If he wanted another shot at staying friends with her, he shouldn’t.  

 _(Someone, anyone! Forbid him from speaking whenever Ye-Rim popped up within his radius.)_   

But alas, the poor, wretched boy can’t help his sarcastic snipes. 

He takes a quick glance at her basket, resisting the urge to chuckle. “I think you’re better off with aisle twelve and the frozen foods section. I mean,” He holds up an apple, shiny on one side, battered and bruised on the other. “This is evidence that you can’t select fruits and veggies.” 

“Why are you so mean to me?!” 

“Now, now, Rim. You’re backed up enough as is. While we do want you to explode, we don’t want you to do it here now, do we?” Shit. There he goes again with that foul mouth of his.  

“Fine. You know what?!” Picking up a single banana – dangerously ripe and speckled in a rather revolting brown – she aims it towards him, jabbing at the air viciously as a knight would do with a lance. “I will personally ruin that Off-White hoodie of yours, and then you’ll be sorry!” 

Hopping a few steps away, Jung-Kook hastily holds up a radish root:  Wide enough to protect his handsome face from moldy produce, and thick enough to be used as a baseball bat. “May I remind you that I can always throw my soiled clothes into the wash?” 

Oh, good God. She’s discarded the banana for a  _bittermelon_ _:_ Rivaling the radish in both size and power. “I’ll stick this up your asshole, then.  Let’s see who the constipated one is now!”  

Thrusting the heavy vegetable left, Jung-Kook twirls away from her attack, backing dangerously into the ten-foot shelf of soy sauces. She attempts a hit on the right, and – after missing and shouting out curse words in frustrations – left again. They’re dancing nimbly past the shiny persimmons, the crates of strawberries and oranges, and Jung-Kook grasps a handful of discounted grapes, firing them at her with deadly accuracy.  

Only to have her fend his ambush by hitting them back into his direction. He needs a shield. He desperately needs a shield before splatters of raisin-purple make themselves a permanent home on his expensive sweater. He feels the sweat dripping down the side of his temple, which begs the question of, why was a dumb food fight giving him such a strenuous work out?!    

“Take  _THIS_!” 

His guard is let down carelessly for a brief second, and a powerful strike is delivered to his side. God,  _that_  was certainly going to leave a bruise the next day.  

“Oh, so we’re going to play like that, huh? Well then!” Jung-Kook counters quickly with a bunch of freshly-sprayed green onions, thwacking it back and forth to send cold water droplets flying into her face. “HOW ‘BOUT THIS?!”  

“ _YAH_. STOP! THIS – THIS IS NEW!” 

“What's the matter, Rim? Too much hydration for your sickly complexion to handle?” 

Rapid footsteps echo behind them, and Yoongi – whom had just emerged from the back room after his break (A tad bit too late though, considering that one could’ve heard the rowdy commotion from a mile away) – yells in a state of hysterics, shining his flashlight into their eyes, blinding both Ye-Rim and Jung-Kook for a few moments. “Guys, guys, guys! Stop your nonsense, right now!” 

“ ** _THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU!_** ”     

Yoongi looks on, incredulous. There is absolutely no way of stopping this, so why not just take a breath and enjoy it? Standing a good few feet away, he murmurs, “Wow. You two managed to agree on something?” 

“That’s -  ** _ngh_**  – one way to put it!” The basket handle, dangling dangerously from her wrist, is at a high risk of snapping.   

“Kook, you’re supposed to be the – whoa, there!” Jung-Kook collides into Yoongi’s chest, and the older man forcibly pushes him back into the battleground. “Don’t attack me, dumbass!”  

“I’m - “ Jung-Kook struggles, parrying an attack of five stalks of celery with a purple eggplant. “Trying! Get out of the way,  _hyung_!” Her hand is starting to grow limp, and during her fleeting moment of vulnerability, launches a half-sliced winter melon frisbee in her direction as a last resort. Ye-Rim performs a stupendous dive underneath a shelf showcasing plastic cases of blueberries to protect her head from any impending concussions, but the plastic hamper succumbs to the pressure, breaking into two pieces.   

“Oh, no!” Ye-Rim squeaks as the contents in her basket break upon impact with the ground. The cheese, wrapped in the plastic casing, remains perfectly untouched. But the two tubs of Greek yogurt explode, coating everything and everyone standing within its proximity. 

Jung-Kook's comfortable hoodie included.     

(Additional condolences to the broken winter melon disc:  It performed very well during the fray). 

Yoongi slowly makes his way towards the mess, whistling just as Ye-Rim crawls out from her hiding spot, “Well. It looks like Pikachu took a shit. What the hell is this?” 

“Lemon pulp,” Jung-Kook clarifies, wiping flecks of it off his face. “Good Lord, I better clean this shit up. Yoongi- _hyung_ , can you...?“ 

“I’ll do something about the surveillance tape, don’t worry.” And he hurries off once more, disappearing behind a set of doors. Jung-Kook sighs heavily and walks towards the customer service counter to pull out the mop bucket, dragging it slowly behind him.  

Ye-Rim's the first one to break the silence with a shameful, stuttering “S-sorry.” Jung-Kook casts a wary glance at her as she bows her head towards him, her Nikes stained in light-green flesh - well, now. At least she shows some sign of remorse. Plus, ruining her sneakers was enough of a punishment. He heads towards a nearby cupboard housing the cleaning supplies, yanks out a worn-out bristle broom and passes it to her. 

His flinty gaze melts into one of pure mischief when he says, "Don't you _dare_ think you're getting out of this one, Rim."

"Never said I was, asshole" is the last thing he hears her pipe up before she quietly resumes her sweeping. 

_Same ol' Rim. All she needs is her uniform and that bulging mahogany-red backpack of hers to complete the ensemble._

Not that it wasn't welcome. 

* * *

 

"Y'know, I don't exactly approve of food fights," Jung-Kook begins, squeezing excess water out of the mop to wring it dry. "But, c'mon. You have to admit, _that_ was fun." 

Ye-Rim glances up from the floor, quizzical. Tossing the garbage and filth into a nearby garbage can, she scoffs, “Yeah? How so?"

He shoots her a genuine smile, catching her by surprise. To be honest, if she were him, she would've given her a brutal, well-deserved verbal beating, and subsequently placed an outright ban on her from stepping into this particular store ever again. Anything, but a friendly grin that displayed how much he had enjoyed their impromptu skirmish. Edging a tad bit closer towards her, he says, "Oh, y'know, it's like a reminder of how you used to flick chalk dust into my face when Soo-Youngie _noona_ asked us to clean the classrooms. Except this time, of course, we wasted food in the process."

"Hey, you deserved it back then!" She clips back, snarky. "FYI, you were the one clapping dust into my eyes _first_."

"Fair point. But then again," Nudging an elbow into her rib cage softly, he whispers, "Why wouldn't I provoke you in the first place? You always had the best reactions."

A little too close for comfort. Dangerously too close for comfort. With her free hand, she lightly pushes him away, raising her hand to mimic a violent karate chop to his neck. "You bastard. I never intended to be your comic relief. And anyway, I helped you clean up now, didn't I?" 

"Yes, Rim. You helped straighten out a mess that you contributed towards:  Something a responsible adult should do."

Wow. This is actually happening. Jeon Jung-Kook and Kim Ye-Rim lasted five minutes without aggravating one another. One step forward, right? Maybe staying friends is possible, after all. 

With evidence of the earlier tussle finally tucked away, Ye-Rim yanks out her wallet to pay for her needed groceries, and of course, for the damages done. Jung-Kook picks up the plastic container with pursed lips, questioning whether he should say something or not. 

 _Ah, what the hell._   

“Rim. I don’t mean to pry, but are you um...?” Scratching the back of his head, his voice trails off. Ye-Rim raises a skeptical eyebrow at his discomfort. 

“I’m...?”    

“Constipated? Like, I said it before just to spite you –  ** _hey, don’t look at me like that_**! But, are you?” There. He’s said it.  

“Er, well,” Taken aback, Ye-Rim clasps her hands together, resting her fingers against her forehead. “Look, Kookpa, I’m sure you mean well, but I really don’t think it’s a great idea for us to talk about my GI issues, y’know?” 

“I’m not going to tease you about it. I used to have it, too, when I lived in the dormitory,” He reassures, stepping out of the register. “It’s just that if you want to improve your GI system, you should eat things like oatmeal and flaxseed.  Have you ever tried combining it together to make overnight oats? Okay, you know what!” He runs off, shouting as Ye-Rim's stony gaze bores into his back. “I’ll be right back!” 

A minute later, he returns with – much to Ye-Rim's surprise – a handful of items that she has never purchased before:  Instant oatmeal, and packaged flaxseed meal. “You already have strawberries, so that should add enough flavour. If not, you've got vanilla extract at home, right? Just a drop should do the trick," He instructs, scanning the items. “So, when you get home tonight, just mix the oats, flax seed, Greek yogurt and some milk together into a jar. I’m just basing off the assumption that you do have milk in your fridge? Yes? **_Good_**. Then, you’ll have a fiber-full breakfast ready to go for the next day!” 

She takes a moment to absorb the information fired excitedly at her, flabbergasted. But soon afterward, she taps her card against the reader and, for the first time since seeing her again, laughs: A burst of deep and hearty laughter that rings in his ears, and warms his body better than coffee. “Wow. How is it that you’re better than my doctor?” 

“When you live alone, you need to know these things,” Jung-Kook says, pleased with himself. Handing her bag towards her, however, all friendliness evaporates into the air. Taking its place was a warning glare. He advises quietly, “But seriously, Rim. Don’t fall back on your fuckin’ ice-cream until you’ve fully recovered. That shit is bad for you.”  

Her chuckle was delightful while it lasted.  Sneering, she questions, “Is that a challenge?" 

“Heh. Try me. I’ll just barricade the frozen foods whenever you’re here.” 

The flicker of defiance in her eye conveys everything: They were going to see each other again.  

Jung-Kook, despite being heavily scented with lemon and sticky from the residue of lactose, is actually looking forward to it.  

Likewise, Ye-Rim is too, despite having to pay for collateral damage. 

As for Yoongi, he makes a mental reminder to request a change in his shifts. He loves Jeon Jung-Kook as much as anybody, but frankly, he'd rather be pushed into a ten-feet tank from a hundred-feet platform than work with him ever again. 


	3. Rim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, everyone, but I thank you kindly for your patience! :3 I got very wrapped up in a Persona 5 story (#BESTGAME - If you have a PS4, I highly recommend you play it!), but I'm back and I hope this ten-paged-ish (LOL) chapter suffices. Hope you enjoy!

Ye-Rim's not much of a breakfast person, and it’s _not_ because she has some vendetta against waffles or eggs benedict. She loves brunch as much as the next beanie-clad hipster in all their avocado coffee glory.

It’s simply the fact that she just doesn’t have the time to properly cook something at the stove and daintily spoon cereal or shovel pancake slivers into her mouth. Rather, she goes for the quick, easy alternative by making a quick purchase at the vending machine on campus:  Either in the form of a chocolate bar, or a bag of chips with a swig of orange juice from the bottle.

And of course, since she was a pretentious, sassy young woman that deserved the absolute best, she splurged on the pulp, too. It may be heavily processed, but at least it was _some_ form of Vitamin C, right?

For the past year and a half since entering university, her rather inconsistent breakfast meals miraculously left her with plentiful energy to spare after a three-hour seminar. Make no mistake:  Seung-Hwan had her fair share of concerned fits over Ye-Rim's poor diet choices, but the younger girl haughtily told her off through quote-unquote, ‘ _logic and reasoning_ ’.

Quoted from Kim Ye-Rim, circa 2018:  ‘ _Unni, rest assured. I’m fine. This is the life of a chemical engineer in training._ ’

_(No, it’s not.)_

‘ _I promise, I’ll eat better once I start my first internship!_ ’

_(No, she won’t.)_

But of course, good things don’t last forever. The wretched universe just has an awful personal grudge against the youngster. Or maybe – just maybe – the accumulation of Reese’s Pieces and Quaker’s Chewys’ was _finally_ taking its toll on Ye-Rim.

* * *

 

It started off somewhat harmless. Harmlessly slow.

Soo-Young decided to take Ye-Rim on a regular girls’ date with high-tea at some luxurious parlour and some much-needed TLC in the form of retail therapy. But embarrassingly enough, Ye-Rim had to leave the changing room without buying the one skirt that she dearly coveted, proclaiming it to be too constricting around the waist. Downtrodden, she definitely was, but after checking the calendar, Mother Nature was due to drop any second now. Optimistic, she explains after devouring half of a banana split with Soo-Young that it was most likely water weight she was retaining.

_(It wasn’t.)_

Then, Ye-Rim started to drift off to sleep.

Except that this wasn’t a typical case of student fatigue here, where she decided to take a nap during a long commute from her apartment to lecture. This was one of those awkward _‘elbow-slipping-off-the-desk'_ moments, with uncapped orange juice thrown into the air, raining on the next row of students in a sticky shower, leaving their clothes and notebooks messy and smeared with residue.

Professor Kim – a kindly woman that didn’t look like a day over forty despite her LinkedIn profile – confronted Ye-Rim afterward if she needed vitamin recommendations. She declined. But suffice to say, nobody sits within her proximity anymore – not that Ye-Rim really minded.

The discomfort came soon after that, plaguing her stomach in the form of painful wrenches and cramps like there were no tomorrow. She lost all appetite that day in the cafeteria, and it was her ghastly complexion that lead to the final straw for her observant friends. Clearly, something was wrong.

And Kang Seulgi – the handsomely gorgeous dad figure of the group – put her foot down, and dragged a reluctant Ye-Rim to the doctor’s office with an equally concerned Seung-Hwan in tow.

The thing is, Ye-Rim doesn’t really like hospitals. She’s never had a pleasant experience in them. From watching her mother give birth to her two sisters (A fourteen-hour labour for the two bloody monsters), to her fathers' arm fracture when climbing to the roof of their home to patch up a shingle and to a terrifying 103 degree fever when she was a wee toddler – well, let’s just say her hatred for the smell of antiseptic is justified.

And without a doubt, Ye-Rim, after being dragged against her will for the dreaded prick of the needle, could now confirm that her hatred for hospitals has now multiplied a hundred-fold.

“Please promise me, Ye-Rim-sshi,” The physician – an elderly man with a graying moustache and wispy tufts of hair combed back into an outdated undercut – began swiftly after taking a glance at his digitalized report. “No more sweets.”

 _Oh, my God._ Seulgi had a powerful grip on Ye-Rim's wrist to keep her from fidgeting.

“No more chocolate.”

 _WHAT?! “_ Hwan,” Seulgi hissed quietly. “Stop her before she starts throwing punches.”

“No more chips.”

A very purple vein began to throb in Ye-Rim's temple, pulsing furiously. _I will literally drop dead right here._

“I’m very much aware that you have a liking towards junk food, but with the way you’re going right now, you’ll be in for a rough time later when you’re in your late twenties.”

 _Oh, you piece of work, I’ll –_  

“So, do as I say, okay?”

“Or what?” Ye-Rim snarled viciously, startling the older man into a fright. “You’ll - “

“ _We’ll_ do as you say, Dr. Jung! Thank-you! C’mon, Rim, let’s go!”

The two older women don't want to say anything demeaning when they’re still within the doctor’s earshot, but Ye-Rim closes her eyes shut as a sigh escapes her lips, knowing that the inevitable ‘ _I told you so_ ’ tutting was unavoidable when they clamber aboard Seulgi’s car.

* * *

 

Seulgi. Seulgi _has_ to be the snitch. If not, then Seung-Hwan. Who else would it be that would have her mothers’ contact information?

Ye-Rim scratched an ugly scarring pimple on her forehead, squeezing the life out of her cellphone as her mother continued to scold her from many miles away while her younger siblings shouted around in the background. It may have been only several months since she’s been back to her parents’ place to visit, but whenever they exchanged phone calls (On a bi-weekly basis), Ye-Rim always feels right at home with them. It’s a form of comfort to hear their voices after a stressful week of non-stop hustling.

But of course, moving out doesn’t signify that she can escape the ballistic rage of her mother. Seriously. Seulgi’s in for an earful on Monday.  

“Rim- _ah_ ,” Her mother called from the receiver, snapping Ye-Rim out of her stupor.

“Yes?”

“Were you listening to a word I said?”

“Sorry, _umma_.” Ye-Rim's voice concealed no remorse. “Frankly, I’m a little more concerned about who passed on this information to you.”

“ _Aish_ , this girl. Now that you’ve moved out, you’ve learned to talk back to me!”

“NOT true. I’m merely defending myself!”

“Nobody told me, it’s called a mothers’ intuition,” She snapped hotly, putting an end to the conversation. “Nonetheless, _please_ promise me, Rim- _ah_. Be on your best behaviour and take better care of yourself, okay?”

“I know you’re worried, but _umma_ , trust me. I can follow instructions!”

And it was precisely _that_ that landed her in the supermarket once again that Friday evening. It all happened too quickly for her to comprehend:  One minute, she was clutching Seung-Hwan's detailed diorama, scribbled to the brim with tiny notes on the best things to purchase. The next, Jeon Jung-Kook and his wiseassery provoked her into flinging wintermelon frisbees and jabbing eggplant swords.

And then, to her absolute astonishment, he’s scrambling about gathering packages upon packages of things that she has never seen – much less _eaten_ – before, firing off instructions on how to use flaxseed properly. He mentioned things like yogurt for moisture, and strawberries for taste, but her flustered mind’s drawing a blank. The silence during her impossibly long trek back to her apartment isn’t helping the situation, either.

Because she needed a distraction that would keep her mind off that crooked smile of his. Seeing it on his face – the childish excitement – and hearing the cackle that made her reminisce of high school track races and ice-cream trucks ignited a pleasurable feeling that radiated from her heart and spread to her fingertips.

And she doesn’t want the feeling to stop. Jesus, Ye-Rim thinks to herself, Jeon Jung-Kook and his sorcery is no joke.    

Make no mistake:  He’s a pompous asshole and can go from zero to a hundred percent hostile real quick, she muses while slicing the strawberries into thin pieces, but can she deny his utmost care and consideration that hid beneath that cocky exterior of his? No, of course, she can’t. He displayed it today, too, did he not?

But then again, she grimaces as she tosses the ingredients in layer by layer, maybe he was just being nice for the sake of it. After all, nobody wants to wish constipation upon their worst enemies, right? While it was the most logical explanation, she can’t deny that it left her feeling inexplicably disappointed. Popping the unevenly layered mason jar into the fridge, she places her hands on her hips and stalks over to the bathroom. 

Whether it tasted delicious or not, _she’ll_ be the judge of that. But for now, she pats her bulging cheeks repeatedly in front of the mirror, drilling the same mantra pathetically into her mind.

“He’s only being nice just because. There’s no preferential treatment here, Kim Ye-Rim. He knows it. You know it. Stop thinking up delusional scenarios in your mind.”

That didn’t stop her subconscious from murmuring his name in the middle of the night during her slumber, though.

And then a few seconds later: “ _Shit, don’t hit me, I forgot the vanilla._ ”

* * *

 

They’re at the crowded cafeteria a few days after, and Ye-Rim plops herself comfortably between Seung-Hwan and Seulgi, both munching on apples and sandwiches full of vegetables, cheese and ham. It’s been three days since her trip to the supermarket, and dare she admit it, she feels detoxed and most importantly, _cleansed_ after the weekend. 

Jeon Jung-Kook really surprises even the best of her.

Soo-Young makes a rough grab for the mason jar, peering into the goopy contents with a scrutinizing gaze. “Nice. Flaxseed.”

“Whoa, what?!” Seung-Hwan chokes back a surprised cough. “Let me see!”

Ye-Rim lets out a groan inwardly. Why bother stacking the yogurt and fruit prettily if her friends were going to shake the crap out of the jar? Soo-Young hands it over to Seung-Hwan, laughing, “Knock yourself out.”

“May I remind you all that this is my lunch and that I would like this back?” Ye-Rim asks exasperatedly.

“That aside, Rim,” Joo-Hyun chimes in from behind them, settling into a seat beside Seung-Hwan. “This actually looks _delicious.”_ Grinning that charming smile reserved only for the youngest of the bunch, she adds teasingly, _“_ Is our little baby finally learning how to cook?”

“I do know how to cook.” Gosh, it comes out much more defensive than she thought. Clearing her throat, Ye-Rim mutters, “Jeon Jung-Kook taught me this. _Finally_ , he’s of some use.”

The others pause mid-bite to stare at her. And Ye-Rim realizes at once that she’s fucked.

_Great. You just opened up a dreaded can of worms from the past. Great job, Rim. Really. Applause, applause, applause for the stupidity._

“Wait,” Seung-Hwan begins suspiciously, her string cheese now lay lopsided on the table. “Who’s Jeon Jung-Kook?”

Seulgi taps a finger against her chin. “Seung-Hwan- _ah_ , I feel like Rim’s talked about this before? Then again, you were drunk that night so I doubt you remember anything.”

“Oh,” Ye-Rim begins in a frantic frenzy, waving her arms around like a mad man. “Well, I guess everybody is suffering from amnesia today! Case closed, then!”

“Oh, no, Rim. You’re not getting out of this one,” Soo-Young butts in cheekily, barely evading the younger woman’s flying palm. “Anyway, if you all must know, Jeon Jung-Kook's an old _boyfriend_ that our dear Rim hasn’t gotten over yet.” 

“Don’t even call him a boyfriend,” Ye-Rim spits out furiously, flushing a bright crimson-red. Joo-Hyun giggles cutely; while she only picked up bits and pieces of their past romance, she knows that there was something in Soo-Young's words that definitely irked her to some degree. Either way, there must be some truth to it, so was it the boyfriend thing? Or is it that even after two years, Ye-Rim still hasn’t built a bridge over that incident that left her self-confidence scarred for eternity? “We never set up any labels. Soo-Young _unni_ , you know this story better than me! Clarify for them!”

“I would,” She sings. “But then again, I’m not nosy.”

“ _Unni_!”

“Your reaction clearly says otherwise, Rim,” Seung-Hwan chuckles, biting into her sandwich once more. “You do realize that Seulgi’s a criminology and psychology double major, right? Just a few one-on-one interrogations and I bet you she’ll pin down the story faster than the FBI.”

“Analyze me all you want,” Ye-Rim says, appetite now lost with Jeon Jung-Kook on her mind once more. “Trust me. The only mutual feeling we share for each other is revenge and devastation.” Eyes flashing dangerously, her thoughts flicker back to the pair of Nikes that were left hanging on her balcony to dry. “That _dumb-dumb_.”

“That’s an improvement,” Soo-Young laughs, grinning a knowing smile. “You used to call him a dumb _fuck_.”

“Oh, my,” Ye-Rim snaps dryly, tone laced in sarcasm. “How crass of me.”

“Now, now, Rim. At the very least, you should put your pride aside and give him your thanks for helping out with your digestive problems. AND!” Soo-Young points a warning finger at her just before Ye-Rim could open her mouth to argue. “Ladies? What do we say?”

“Most importantly, **_don’t be a complete bitch about it_**!”

The only time that they were ever in complete synchronization was when they were telling her to tone down the sass. Good Lord, Ye-Rim seriously needs to consider finding friends whom didn’t take on parental personas.

* * *

 

Inhale. Exhale. A steaming 7-11 coffee in one hand, her shopping list in the other. Keep the interactions to a minimum. Say thank-you. Be polite. Be on your way. Make chicken noodle soup and aliquot it into containers for lunch this week. Is that so hard?

Yes, as a matter of fact, it is.

Inhale. Exhale. She steps in, body on high alert as her eyes scan the immediate area for any sign of Jeon Jung-Kook and his purplish-red hair. Much to her chagrin, he’s not here. And neither was the sleepy-looking security guard there, either.

She glances at her watch with furrowed eyebrows, tapping on the crystal roughly. The hands were still moving; did she get the time wrong?

“Are you looking for something?” A deep, masculine voice interrupts kindly. Snapping her head up from her wrist, she suddenly finds herself staring at a tall, lanky man with fluffy blonde hair and a dimpled grin. His nametag reads ‘KIM NAM-JOON'.

Something about him – she's not really sure what it is, to be honest, but he’s radiating a rather peaceful aura – makes her drop the hyperactive fight-or-flight response. Her body relaxes automatically, and she bows respectfully towards him. “Ah, excuse me. Do you happen to know if um, Jeon Jung-Kook is working today?”

“Oh, you’re looking for Kook? Yeah, he’s here.” The cashier points towards the storage room. “He’s currently in the back.”

“Ah. I see. Thank-you.”

A few steps in, and she hears him call out curiously, “You his girlfriend?”

And she stumbles over her two left feet, catching her balance with a shelf. “N-no!”

“No, **_what_**?”

Jeon Jung-Kook's smiling once more when he emerges from the back room. His arms are crossed against his broad chest, and Ye-Rim takes in his appearance with a fixed gaze:  Black on black on black, on – dark brown?

Nam-Joon feigns interest in the comics section of one of the newspapers lying about, but let's be real:  Would he _really_ be captivated by Garfield and Snoopy when something so juicy was happening right before his very eyes?

“Timberlands from high school.” Ye-Rim nods approvingly as Jung-Kook saunters towards her. “Nice”

“You contributed to my funding for these. Did you forget?”

How could she _ever_? She bought these for him for his seventeenth birthday with her minimal allowance. Albeit, they _were_ a little scuffed around the edges from regular wear-and-tear and splattered with dried mud, but other than that, they still looked rather intact. How surprising:  He took rather pristine care of them.     

Brief, but icy pleasantries exchanged, Jung-Kook resumes his teasing in a low whisper as Ye-Rim picks up a shopping basket. This time around, she’s making sure that the screws are tight and intact. She doesn’t need another mortifying moment in the making.

“Dang, Rim. You must _really_ miss me to come every week.” 

Must everything he say leave her _this_ bashful? Jesus. Clearing her throat, she says, “Please read up the definitions of coincidence and convenience, Kookpa.”

To which he just flicks her in the forehead, leaving a painful red mark right smack in the middle, as he replies arrogantly, “You’re talking to the wrong person, dummy. A dictionary is practically my best friend.”

Ye-Rim's serious:  If he keeps this up, Jung-Kook's going to piss her off to the brink of no return. And then maybe, _just maybe_ , she’ll get arrested for attempted manslaughter. “That’s - that is beyond the damn point!” _Why am I here again? Oh, yeah! The coffee!_

“Anyway, uh,” She mumbles, rubbing the tiny gash left behind. Thank God for bangs. “Here.”

“What?”

Thrusting the dangerously hot compostable cup in his face, she growls, “Take it before I change my mind, dumbass.”

She doesn’t want to admit it, but the way his large eyes sparkle in the dim supermarket when he takes the cup from her makes her heart flutter. She remembers that dazzling look of bewilderment and wonder when she presented him with those Timberlands for his birthday.

Wait. What is she **_thinking_**?! No, no, no. Jeon Jung-Kook is not synonymous to ‘ _sweet_ ’. He’s anything but.

“I see,” Jung-Kook says, his lips curling into a wicked smirk. “The overnight oats did you some good, huh? I must admit, I’m surprised that you still remember that I like 7-11's coffee. Thanks, Rim,” He takes a sip, winking cutely at her. Instinctively, her cheeks flare up red. “Just what I needed for a pick-me-up before I go on my break.”

“Y-you’re welcome.” There. She’s accomplished the near-impossible task of speaking to Jeon Jung-Kook in a well-behaved manner. Well, close enough:  Soo-Young would’ve advised her to leave out the ‘asshole’ insult, but she did pretty good, right?! She should be proud of her progress!

But then, he breaks the stilted silence hovering between them with yet another satirical remark. “Okay, but like, you didn’t poison this right? No drugs, no weed, nada?”

 _Annnnd, we’re back to square one._ Rolling her eyes at him, she snipes (With hopes that he would flinch at her viciousness), “Do I look like the type to do that?”

He doesn't. Rather, he blinks blanky and states, “I don’t know, dude. You tell me.”

Her pulse is thrumming rapidly against her wrist. And whatever amount of civility she had originally reserved for him (Which was quite minimal to begin with) vanishes in a heartbeat. _The_ _fucker._

“If you’re on break, shouldn’t you be lazing around and contributing to absolutely _nothing_?” She hurries into the aisle full of canned goods, soups and the like, and Jung-Kook follows suit, skipping idly behind. Where was that Kim Nam-Joon boy for support when she needed him the most?!

“What can I say? When someone amusing from my past drops by, I can’t resist the temptation.”

Ye-Rim whirls around, sending him a heart-stopping glare with all maliciousness that she could muster. “ ** _STOP_** that!”

“Okay, okay. I concede defeat.” Peering at the messy, scrunched up piece of paper, he asks, “What’s on your list anyway?”

“Um, I need soup stock.”

“No, no, no.” Jung-Kook points at the first item at the top of the list with a curt shake of his head. “That clearly says _chicken_ stock.”

“Soup stock, chicken stock. What difference does that even make!?”

“All I’m sayin’ is, if you’re looking to cut down on your sodium intake, that is not the brand you want to use. You’ve gotta trust your ol’ Kookpa with this. I cook tons.”

Ye-Rim purses her lips together, skeptical. “I’m - not convinced. If so, then where exactly is this God-like brand that you recommend?”

“Right. Up. There!”

Indeed, it was. It’s the exact same one that Seung-Hwan uses in her own meals whenever she prepared homemade _ramen._ Sitting prettily on the highest shelf about seven feet high, taunting her with the red rooster emblem.

God, Ye-Rim now regrets not drinking more milk when she was in elementary school. The consequences – namely, the pains of being short - will surely return and bite one in the ass in the future.

“You’re fucking shitting me.” Ye-Rim grimaces, rolling up her shirt sleeves.

Jung-Kook nudges her in the ribs, almost in a playful, _'in your face'_ kind of way. “I am not.”

“Kookpa.”

“Rim.”

Has her life gotten so low that she needs to beg him for help? “Please.”

Even without looking at him directly in the eye, she can _hear his_ conceited, shit-eating grin forming on his terribly handsome face. “Please, what?”

Ye-Rim considers her options for bodily harm:  Whether to stomp on his foot painfully or thwack him around the head. Neither seems feasible at the moment. Not when she’s boiling in rage – a bit ironic, she knows, but her accuracy seems to deteriorate when she was overly emotional. “You know exactly what I need! Help me get it!”

For a brief second, Jung-Kook actually contemplates her plea while stroking an imaginary beard. And Ye-Rim was fairly confident that he would’ve agreed. She brought him a coffee, out of the goodness of her heart. Why wouldn’t he?!

“Hmm, let me think. **_No_**.”

A devastating blow.

Eyelids fluttering, she stammers, “ _Y_ - _Yah_. Do you want to die?! I am going to **_KILL YOU_** – “

And all the unfazed Jeon-Fucking-Jung-Kook ends up doing is extend his hand outward to ruffle her hair, proceeding to shrug with a flippant expression gracing his angular facial features.

“I’ll be looking forward to my murder, Rim.”

That’s it:  No more playing nice. Jung-Kook posed this challenge; it’s completely understandable that she would fight back and prove him wrong. She didn’t need him. She may be standing at a petite five foot one, but that didn’t mean shit. 

* * *

 

Ye-Rim's been here for a full hour. Her sweater is drenched in sweat, her glasses are foggy. And she’s really questioning whether she needs to join Joo-Hyun on her morning jog the next day.

At first, she tried asking Mr. Dimple (AKA, Kim Nam-Joon) if there was a ladder she could borrow, to which he very jovially told her, “No.”

A bit suspicious, considering that he himself barely met six feet in height, but she left it at that. Fine.

So then, she thought of stealing a broom from the cleaning supplies cupboard, only for Kim Nam-Joon to catch her in the act as he turned away from the cash register to replace a few granny smith apples back into their bins.

Smiling (But it looked rather forceful, if Ye-Rim were being frank), he wrenches it out of her grip and pleasantly informs her that ’brooms were only for employee usage, not for witch cosplay’.

_(What part of her shouted ‘witch cosplay’, anyway!?)_

So instead, the fruit he was juggling in his arms gave her another idea. When Nam-Joon was turned away, assisting with a rather attractive young woman with her inquiries on where to find the best chocolate, she takes a few oranges (Bruised and mushy) and brazenly throws them into the air in an attempt to knock the jug off.

Suffice to say, it didn’t work. Neither did shaking the shelf accomplish anything.

Ye-Rim only has one more option left. And she didn’t like it. At all. She’s not the biggest fan of heights – hence, why she only sat along the sidelines while watching her friends plunge to a near-death with a durable cord clipped onto their waist. And while she knows climbing up a seven-foot tall shelf to grab chicken stock is virtually incomparable to bungee-jumping in _Yuldong_ Park, it still leaves her hands and legs shaky in nerves.

Gritting her teeth, she gives herself a determined nod. _It has to be done. It must be done. I will be the one. Yes. I will be the one._

With Kim Nam-Joon now completely out of sight, Ye-Rim begins her ascent. Left hand, left foot. Right hand, right foot. Two feet up, just around five to go. Despite her clumsiness, she hasn’t knocked over anything yet. See, this isn’t so bad now, is it? A bead of sweat trickles down her face; she doesn’t dare look down in fear of falling to her death.

(Okay, maybe death is pushing it, but a concussion was probable).

She’s close. She’s _so_ close, she can nearly taste the sodium-rich broth. Deep breath.

“ _YAH_ , RIM.” A recognizable panicky shrill erupts throughout the quaint supermarket; Ye-Rim barely cranes her head to the side, watching with squinted eyes as Jeon Jung-Kook comes running about with _kimchi pajeon_ stuffed in his mouth.  Oh, dear Lord, he’s ridiculous. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!”

“W-what does it look like I’m doing?!” Just to spite him, Ye-Rim unabashedly climbs one shelf higher. Really, it wasn’t necessary, but he instigated this. “Getting soup stock. What do you think I’m doin – “

Her entire figure tenses as paralyzing horror rushes through her. Face gaunt, throat dry, but she can’t find the willpower to scream at the evil eight-legged insect clipping at her threateningly from its sticky sanctuary. It’s huge – no, huge isn’t the correct adjective to describe it. It’s _monstrous_.

_Oh. Oh. No. OH, NO, NO, NO._

_“ **Rim**_!?”

It’s as if time had stood completely still. She’s not moving; he’s hovering underneath her with his arms outstretched _just in case_ she decided to do something idiotic like fling herself off the shelf and the spider – well, it curiously pokes its head out of its hiding spot and presses a curious leg into her wrist.

At last, she manages a terrifying, banshee-like shriek before leaping pathetically into the air with her eyes shut tightly, “THERE’S A GIANT SPIDER AND I CAN’T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT!”

“RIM, YOU STUPID **_IDIOT_**.”

And as she sails through the air, ignoring the fiery insults Jung-Kook was firing at her (Something like ' _dumb POS_ ', _'pathetic wimp'_ and the like), she briefly questions if having ‘ _She died honourably for chicken soup_ ’ as her epitaph was appropriate.

Except, the pain never came. _Something_ catches her fall - a rather muscular pillow that groans inwardly when her body lands in its comforting embrace. And soon after, a whiff of Downy softener invades her nose heavily.

Ye-Rim cautiously opens one eye.

* * *

Jung-Kook's arms are wrapped around her legs and lower back in a bridal-carry, and her hands had somehow unconsciously grabbed a fistful of his shirt during the hysteria. He’s not pleased, to say the least, as evidenced by the deep frown on his face. “Y'know, Rim, you scream like a hyena. You lose _all_ your cuteness right there.” 

“Baseline.” She begins to argue, slightly breathless and fully flushed. “You’re saying I am, though.”

“ _Yah_.” There's no mistaking the disgruntled tone in his voice, but when she averts her gaze from the drawstrings of his sweater to look at his face, Jung-Kook's chewing on his lower lip to keep himself from laughing. Huh, even he can’t keep serious for two minutes.

“Something funny with my face?”

“Don’t sass me, you pipsqueak. I saved your life.”

And Ye-Rim doesn’t know if it was her mind playing tricks on her brain, or perhaps it was from the Downy influence, but Jung-Kook seems a tad bit reluctant in letting her go. She hops off, and he heaves a half-hearted sigh. “It seems like every single time you come here, you’re always deliberately causing trouble for me.”

“Please. _Your_ middle name is trouble.”

He flashes her an eye-roll, tapping her forehead. “You owe me, you brat.”

“Two coffees.”

“Nope.”

Ye-Rim pouts cutely in front of him, only for Jung-Kook to turn away. “...Three?”

“Nuh-uh.”

A hard-hitting smack resounds as her hand makes contact with his forearm. “ _C’mon_!”

And it was only then when she feels something heavy land in her shopping basket; Ye-Rim glances down, her eyes widening in genuine surprise. When did _this_ get there?

“Three doesn’t mean shit. I want _four_ coffees,” Jung-Kook corrects, his hand patting down a tousled strand of blonde. “And I’ll be here to receive it promptly at ten o’clock every Friday evening. You cool with that?”

Jesus. This is ludicrous.

It’s been three weeks since she’s seen him again, and every single encounter has left her a frazzled mess of emotions. In retrospect, she’s...not really infuriated. Well, no, correction:  She _is_. Infuriatingly happy, that is, and it confuses her. Were they really treading back into the realm of friendship? Or maybe, possibly, was it something else?

It's a mind-boggling conundrum, of course, but she knows she’ll have more time to muse about this later. In the meantime, she narrows her eyes at Jung-Kook and scoffs, swatting his hand away. Begrudgingly, she growls, “...You jerk.”

" ** _EXCUSE_**  me?" Jung-Kook interrupts brusquely, suddenly grabbing a squirming Ye-Rim into an affectionate noogie.  "Girl, puh- _lease_. Who rescued your ass from insects back then, huh?!"

" _HEY_.  ** _LET. GO_**!" 

_(And of course, safely hidden in the confines of the security control room, Kim Nam-Joon watches the screens intently with a devious smirk growing on his face; the steel ladder is tucked into an inconspicuous corner right under his feet.)_


	4. Kook-Rim.

_To: Jjang Jjang Man Boong Boong_  
_Sent At:  10:28 P.M._  
  
_Yah. When are you coming in?_

 _To:  Namchoon_  
_Sent At:  10:31 P.M._

_Are you illiterate. Can you not read the schedule. (P.S.:  I’m half-asleep. I don’t work today. You approved my shift change, remember.)_

_To:  Jjang Jjang Man Boong Boong_  
_Sent At:  10:32 P.M._

_? Sleeping, huh? Your Steam status would like to say hi._

_To:  Namchoon_  
_Sent At:  10:33 P.M._

_Fucker. Get back to work._

_To:  Jjang Jjang Man Boong Boong_  
_Sent At:  10:35 P.M._

_Something incredible just happened. I have the tape ready for your viewing pleasure._

_To:  Namchoon_  
_Sent At:  10:36 P.M._

_Unless you’re paying me overtime to leave the comfort of my bed for the sake of watching grainy surveillance footage, I ain’t continuing this conversation._

_To:  Namchoon_  
_Sent At:  10:41 P.M._

_What's it about, anyway? Did that Rim girl drop by again?_

_To:  Jjang Jjang Man Boong Boong_  
_Sent At:  11:02 P.M._

_It's good to be curious, but one must sacrifice some things in order to get what they want._

_To:  Namchoon_  
_Sent At:  11:03 P.M._  
  
_I wait nearly twenty minutes for a proper teaser, but all you’re doing is spewing philosophical bullshit in my face. Forget it, Joon. I’ll watch it tomorrow._

 _To:  Jjang Jjang Man Boong Boong_  
_Sent At:  11:05 P.M._

_I know you have a soft spot for Katherine, but please stop playing Catherine.  You’ve clocked in ninety-something hours already._

* * *

 

Jung-Kook carries many heavy, dark secrets with him. Some, he’ll never dispel to anybody in fear of the subsequent trauma and counselling that would follow. One example would be where he had once consumed a homemade ‘mud brownie’ when he was – _Jesus Christ_ – ten years old, courtesy of his prankster of an older brother. And when you’re _ten_ , you should have enough reasoning and self-awareness to _never_ accept anything prepared by a fourteen-year-old.  Embarrassing, to say the least; he’ll never speak of this incident again.

Others, however, he’ll gladly admit to right then and there with no shame whatsoever.  And a prime example, believe it or not, involved the squirming young woman that he was supporting firmly in his arms. 

Jung-Kook admits that he’s not much for bodily contact, especially with members of the opposite sex.  Not much of a hugger – irking his past exes to no end – and most probably never will be.  He doesn’t blame them for their suggestion to break-up after a few months together since he wasn’t exactly the best person to turn to for comfort when they were enduring through an especially difficult day. Holding hands, sure, he could do that - but only for ten minutes maximum. _Embracing_ another person, though? Jung-Kook shudders at the very thought.

Oh, the cringe.

But back in the day (A phrase that Jung-Kook now finds horrific), he never went a day without initiating _some_ form of skin-ship with Kim Ye-Rim. And in retrospect, it is rather peculiar.

No, forget peculiar. It’s fucking _weird_.

He recoils at Lisa’s inviting arms for a good-bye hug when he saw her off at the airport when she returned to Thailand, but _apparently_ , welcoming Ye-Rim's return from a weekend trip in Busan took absolutely no effort whatsoever.

And what about Eunha? The fool _patted_ her upper arm faintly when her tiny puppy passed away. Needless to say, it didn’t provide much comfort for the already saddened girl. How tragic; the poor thing had her heart broken twice in one day.

So frankly, Jung-Kook's not exactly clear why that is, or to be more specific, _what_ makes Kim Ye-Rim _that_ special. Or maybe (Since Ye-Rim was a complete lunatic and often borrowed books on witchcraft back in high school), what psychokinetic control she mastered that drew him to her. 

Her hands weren’t particularly smooth; rather, they were quite rough and calloused from completing her housekeeping chores for homeroom, prompting Soo-Young to buy her Etude House’s hand mask as an early birthday present. She wasn’t exactly lightweight, meaning she carried plenty of squish around her face and on the upper arms that he so _dearly_ enjoyed pinching. Back then, she experimented with a dark-brown bob that left him passively stunned at her youthful beauty; he doesn’t know how many times he ran his fingers through her hair affectionately back then.

And of course, five years later even without seeing the damn girl regularly, Jung-Kook realizes that old habits die hard.

And sure, one could _probably_ argue that anybody with a functional brain would’ve come to a falling girls’ aid, but even the most kind-hearted person on this very Earth would never go to such lengths for a stranger and risk injury.  

_(Shitty excuse.  Jung-Kook should just admit that he wanted to play hero for Ye-Rim.)_

Albeit, he could make do without her fingers twisting and tugging the thin skin underneath his shirt this way and that like Play-Dough, but there’s no denying the fluttery butterflies when she landed oh-so-perfectly into his cradle – it felt surprisingly right, like puzzle pieces that finally came together. In a way, it reminded him of that scene from that Ghibli movie where the cap-wearing youngster brought the floating princess to safety. 

The princess here, of course, was crass, foul-mouthed and rude. Not that he was much of an improvement in that regard, really.      

Slowly, she forces her fists to unclench and a guarded, but exhilaratingly beautiful smile graces Ye-Rim's lips for a brief second. Her grin disappears as soon as it forms on her face, but it leaves a lasting impression in the back of his mind. The image sends blood rushing to Jung-Kook's cheeks, and he attempts with difficulty to swallow the nagging lump at the base of his throat.

Damnit, she’s so cute.  Well, with one main exception.  

“Y’know, Rim, you scream like a hyena,” He grunts. “You lose all your cuteness right there.” Jung-Kook can hear a displeased Yoongi mumble, “ _Hypocrite_ ” in his imagination.

“Baseline,” She fights back. “You’re saying I am, though.”

Fuck. She’s so right; she’s caught him red-handed.

He sincerely hopes that she mistakes that reddening flush as physical exertion from holding a fifty-kilogram-ish young woman in his arms. But unbeknownst to him, Ye-Rim was a _much_ better sociologist that he originally thought.

That warm twinkle glinting away in his warm brown eyes betrays his perplexed emotions.

And very clearly, the moon isn’t the only thing capable of waxing and waning tonight, either.

* * *

 

It takes a little while for Ye-Rim to adjust back to the natural phenomenon known as gravity, especially with the way her feet kept fumbling around awkwardly – Jung-Kook had to hold up a hand, hovering slightly below the small of her back just in case her body decided to crash into a row of ketchup bottles.

But once she does, bowing towards him to bid him good-night (And possibly express her gratitude), Ye-Rim can’t stop herself from blurting out, “Kookpa, you’re here every Friday night?”

Jung-Kook smiles. “Timing your visits just for me, eh?”

“Yeah, well,” Ye-Rim shrugs. “I’m chest-high in coffee debts to repay.”

“C’mon. Quit exaggerating.” He fakes a punch on her shoulder softly. God _damn_ , he really can’t take his hands off her, can he? “I only said four.”

“You um, you do bring dinner, don’t you?”

  _Ah._ “I don’t want anything you cook,” Jung-Kook says matter-of-factly. “Because anything you touch is automatically rendered inedible.”

He _says_ that, but frankly, his heart is quite moved by her suggestion. 

“Shut your trap.”

A taunting smirk grows, while a frown deepens. “ _Never_.”

Jung-Kook passes her the rest of her shopping bags and a note detailing his work schedule for the next week (Wednesday to Saturday evenings), and she gives him an acknowledging nod just as the automatic door opens.

Ye-Rim snuggles into her muffler and was just two steps out the door when he calls out curiously, “Oh, but Rim. One question. Why the fuck did you climb up the shelf, anyway? Aren’t you scared of heights?”

Deadpanning, Ye-Rim sighs. “Your very _smiley_ colleague told me that you guys didn’t have one.” 

Bewildered, Jung-Kook presses a fingertip against his chin. “Smiley? Who the fuck is – “

 **_Oh_ ** **.**

Right on cue, Kim Nam-Joon steps into his periphery with a shit-eating grin.

“Yeah. Him. Right there.”

And Jung-Kook's urges to violently wrangle the older man’s head off intensifies.

* * *

 

“Nam-Joonie- _hyung_!” Jung-Kook storms angrily towards the taller man just as the front door closes behind the unsuspecting young woman. “Where the hell were you?!”

Nam-Joon wipes his mouth with a napkin, shaking an empty plastic container in the air. Jung-Kook is _this_ close to strangling him. “I was on my dinner break.”

“When I was on _my_ break?!” Jung-Kook snaps, gazing around wildly like a madman for their weekly schedule. Where was the damn clipboard?! “Look, _hyung_ , I really don’t want to question your methods as operational manager but tell me _why_ you told Rim we didn’t have a ladder.”

“I couldn’t find it.”

Jung-Kook hears a multitude of shitty excuses on the daily, but this one was the shittiest out of all of them. “Excuse me, _hyung_. We have a short step ladder right _here_!” To emphasize his point, he kicks it roughly from behind the customer service counter.

Unfazed, Nam-Joon only tilts his head to the side, pursing his lips in thought. Seriously, now was not the time for duck faces. “Oh, how about that?”

If it was the perfect time to ‘smack a bitch’, it would’ve been now. The short-tempered Jung-Kook is about to erupt, Nam-Joon can sense the irate rage. “Are you fucking **_crazy_**?! Rim has a phobia of heights! Do you realize what would’ve happened if she fell? She could’ve broken her neck, god damnit, _hyung_!”

“Sprained an ankle, perhaps.”

“That’s **_RIGHT_**!” Jung-Kook snaps. And yet, Nam-Joon's still so nonchalant about this. What the hell?! “And she could’ve broke her elbow, too! The last thing Rim needs is a visit to the hospital! The poor thing is terrified of them, okay? Don’t you understand that!?”

A ten-minute verbal beating ensues full of everything imaginable – crass names and vulgarities, a deep-rooted analysis on Ye-Rim's phobias and why it wasn’t morally right to toy with someone’s greatest fears for another’s enjoyment – but throughout the entire ordeal, the only thing whirling around in Nam-Joon's mind was:  _Damn. For once, Yoongi’s actually right._

And once Jung-Kook was done, huffing and puffing for air from overusing his vocal cords, Nam-Joon only drawls slyly, “The only thing that _I’ve_ come to understand is that you actually care more for her safety than the fact that we could’ve been potentially sued.”  

“That is – is **_that_** the primary message you got out of this?! Damnit, _hyung_! Don’t walk away from me!”

And Jung-Kook gives chase to the taller man, shouting hoarsely (He’s done enough tonight as is), “Come back here! I’m not finished with you!”

* * *

 

Unlike the perpetually happy Kim Nam-Joon, Min Yoongi isn’t exactly one to cheerfully skip to work. But even on this chilly Saturday with the wind whipping at his face and leaving evident red streaks, he couldn’t hide that rare smile of his when he began his trek to the supermarket.

Yoongi’s request for a shift change was – dare he believe it – _approved_ by higher management (Namely, his best friend, Kim Nam-Joon). Gone were the days where he wasted away his Friday evenings to single-handedly protect the grocery store from petty thievery.

The downside, of course, was that he no longer had Saturday nights off. But he didn’t mind:  So long as he no longer had to play witness to childish frivolity from the two ‘ _sorta-but-not-really-in-love_ ' gremlins, then to hell with his Saturdays. 

“I see. Well, it was nice talking to you, _imo_.”

Wait. Wait, wait, _wait._

Aisle three. Baking supplies.

Jeon Jung-Kook. He’s _there_. Alive and in the flesh. Jabbering away on his phone with tense brows and even tenser wrinkles. White powder dusting his clothes. The twenty-kilogram bags of all-purpose flour lay completely forgotten.

Yoongi can’t help it. “What the _fuck_!?”

Jung-Kook snaps his head towards his flabbergasted Yoongi- _hyung_ , raising his index finger to his lips.

“I’m on the phone,” He mouths silently, turning away. 

The older redhead only sighs, defeated. Shift change or not, it didn’t mean jack shit if he was stuck working with the very person he was trying to avoid.  

* * *

 

Jung-Kook has many terrible qualities. Sometimes, he doesn’t brush his teeth and his breath ends up smelling like decaying dung. And as observed, he’s not always the nicest person on the planet.

But one thing was for sure:  He has a magical way with people, _especially_ elders. And for some unknown reason, elders were equally charmed by his pleasant demeanor – Ye-Rim's parents included. They were lovely, warm people with even lovelier souls:  Hard-working owners of a Korean barbeque restaurant in the outskirts of _Myeong-Dong_. Always packed, always full of people. Rave reviews galore. Even now, Jung-Kook can’t recall how many times he had recommended this tiny hole-in-the-wall to his friends. 

When Jung-Kook and Ye-Rim were ‘together’ (For lack of a better term), this tiny restaurant became his home away from home. They studied, they illegally drank from their secret _soju_ stash (Really, which rebellious high schooler didn’t do something like that?!), they went shopping after their assignments were done.

And while her parents were initially disapproving of their daughter dating so early in her life, Jung-Kook soon had them wrapped around his finger with his quick-witted mind and voracious appetite. In short, they literally adored him to no end. They packed him extra cuts of beef to bring home, much to Ye-Rim's chagrin; they invited him to their home on the daily. It’s like they had unconsciously _adopted_ Jung-Kook as their son.

And sometimes, Jung-Kook likes to let his imagination run wild with fantasies of married life with Ye-Rim and her doting parents.

 _(Then, he’ll remember the monster that he was day-dreaming about and snap out of it altogether.)_  

Of course, all that had changed soon after. June, he recalls as his fingers dial the phone number he’s had imprinted in his brain since high school, June sixteenth. The day when news of their ‘broken-beyond-repair' relationship was made public. Albeit, the _‘public’_ mainly consisted of his graduating class and her close-knit group of high school friends and their families, but when this was your first relationship, people were inevitably going to gossip.

Good or bad gossip, Jung-Kook didn’t want to fathom it. He was wracked with guilt for the entire summer that subsequently followed his graduation – not just towards Ye-Rim, but to her family whom had always treated him so kindly. But Ye-Rim must've put in a good word for him.  He ran into them one day during his first-year at Seoul Station, and contrary to what he believed, they didn’t accuse him of inflicting pain on their daughter.

Rather, they parted rather amiably with a thankful message for taking care of Ye-Rim, and that he would be welcome to visit their restaurant and that they were _‘only a phone call away’_ if he ever needed anything.

_“Stay out of trouble, okay, Jung-Kookie?”_

Jung-Kook clearly mastered the art of adulting rather well; he never had to reach out to them for help. On the other hand, he thinks while sniggering slightly to himself, Ye-Rim was the one who desperately needed assistance: Be it in the form of cooking lessons, or nutrition workshops. He knows he shouldn’t be amused, but the irony was just too hilarious for him to bear.

The phone rings for a few moments before someone picks up, and a softly spoken, feminine lilt answers.

“Hello, this is the Kim residence.”

“Ah. _Imo_ , hello. This is Jung-Kook.”

“Oh, our Jung-Kookie! It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

They talk a little about this and that:  His schooling and future plans, her never-ending complaints about Ye-Rim and frustrations that she wasn’t taking care of herself. An easy transition in: After a quick clear of the throat, he interjects politely, “So, actually, I bumped into her at the grocery store where I work. I don’t mean to pry, but I think she’s having some health issues right now?”

“Oh, I am very much aware, Jung-Kookie.” He hears some rustling in the back; she sounds occupied with something. “Her friends actually called me first, and then our family doctor.” Another sigh. Whatever amusement he felt previously dissipates into thin air, and Jung-Kook's eyes widen in alarm; it probably wasn’t just constipation if the _family physician_ got involved. “Goodness gracious, her blood test results – “

His heart leaps a little out of his chest at the evident worry in her voice. “Was there something wrong with it?”

“It’s a little high for her age.” She finishes.

Wait. What was this _something_ that was ‘a little high’? Vague. So incredibly vague. That could literally mean anything! What parameters were elevated?! Cholesterol? Triglycerides?! White blood cell count!?

“But nothing that a new diet regime can’t fix.”

He exhales, relaxing a smidge. At least there was a solution. “Oh, I see. So, you talked to her already?”

“Rest assured, Jung-Kook. She has fantastic people looking out for her. You don’t need to worry.”

Sure, her mother might say that as some form of reassurance, but there’s always going to be a part of him that will do the complete opposite. But he knows better than to argue. Instead, Jung-Kook says, “I see. Well, it was nice talking to you, _imo_.”

Yoongi’s hysterical cry suddenly rings out from nearby, and Jung-Kook shoots him a hostile glare. Pressing a finger against his lips to shush him, he mouths, “I’m on the phone”, and turns his back towards the older man.

“Oh, no!” Man, her mother was _always_ so friendly. “Thank-you very much for checking in, Jung-Kookie! Stop by our restaurant anytime! Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Her hospitability uplifts his thin mouth into a smile. “Oh, I won’t.” He wishes her a good-night, and to extend his well wishes to her husband and Ye-Rim's two sisters. Only then did he click off his phone, whirling around to face Yoongi once more.

“Oh, hey. Sorry ‘bout that,” Jung-Kook apologizes, stacking one more bag of flour onto the shelf as if his phone call had never happened. “Joonie- _hyung_ called in sick.”

“Never mind that,” Yoongi says, baffled. Mouth wide open, he questions, “You called that girls’ mom?”

“Well, yeah.”

“... ** _Why_**?!”

And then, as if it were completely obvious, Jung-Kook asks uncertainly, “The better question is, why shouldn’t I? The girl isn’t taking care of herself, and there’s only so much flaxseed and yogurt can do.”

“How very presumptuous of you.”

For once, Jung-Kook actually doesn’t disagree. “Yes. Yes, indeed, I am.”

* * *

 

 _From: Jjang Jjang Man Boong Boong_  
_Sent At:  1:10 AM_

_Ugh._

_From:  Namchoon_  
_Sent At:  1:13 AM_

_I see you haven’t fallen asleep on the job._

_From:  Jjang Jjang Man Boong Boong_  
_Sent At:  1:23 AM_

_Can you believe it? He called her mother to tip her off about her health problems. Talk about concerned._

_From:  Namchoon_  
_Sent At:  1:24 AM_

_Annnnnd?_

_From: Jjang Jjang Man Boong Boong_  
_Sent At:  1:25 AM_

_...I’ll work with Jung-Kook again.  Just so I can keep watch on their asses so they don’t wreak havoc._

_From:  Namchoon_  
_Sent At:  1:29 AM_  
  
_C’mon. Admit it. You just want to savour in their fluffy moments._

 _From:  Jjang Jjang Man Boong Boong_  
_Sent At:  1:33 AM_

_Shut the fuck up._

* * *

 

The following Wednesday – AKA, Hump Day, AKA the least busy day of the week for grocery shopping – Jung-Kook steps into the grocery store with a surprising pep in his step. He’s unexplainably happy, and his positivity is literally radiating off of him in a bright glow.

A walking, talking ball of sunshine, if you will.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at the rather energetic young man when he steps in – whistling, too, for God’s sake. “Well now, aren’t you in a good mood today?”

“Don’t be mistaken. I’m not looking forward to working four days in a row, Yoongi- _hyung_.”

“And trust me,” Yoongi murmurs softly to no one in particular, crossing his arms against his chest. “Neither am I.” But once Jung-Kook disappears into the back room, the front entrance swings open once more.

And the older man lets a rare ghost of a smile twitch on his face.

Ten o’clock. Right on the dot. Kim Ye-Rim has her hair in a ponytail and her eyes blinking away nervously behind the Harry Potter frames. Steaming-hot coffee in one hand, and _samgak kimbap_ in the other. It doesn’t look homemade, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

She greets him with a tactful hello and a bow, and Yoongi knows right away that he hit the jackpot tonight.

* * *

 

Coffee. Coffee, a snack and an artificial blonde:  All things Jung-Kook was looking forward to on this Wednesday night.

“Jung-Kook- _ah_!” 

Not Rose Park. Rose Park with her dewy, blemish-free complexion and untangled hair tinged in a sensual shade of orange that brought out her eyes. Jung-Kook's surprised to see her, to say the least, but her presence was never unwelcomed at the grocery store, and for good reason, too:  She practically breathed life into the dingy atmosphere with her humorous jokes and perky attitude.

“Oh. Rosie!” Bounding towards her excitedly with a toothy grin, he says, “Wow, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Noting her unusual getup, he adds questioningly, “Um, so what exactly are you doing here?” 

Rose is Korean herself, but growing up overseas (Down under with the kangaroos and uber-cute koalas), she couldn’t bring herself to use some of the common honorifics. Case in point: She never referred Nam-Joon or Yoongi as ‘ _oppa_ ’. Jung-Kook doesn’t fault her for that – he, too, grew mortified whenever his hoard of high school fangirls dropped by at the grocery store during his day shifts.

“Nam-Joon told me to come to assist you today,” She explains, playing with a piece of loose thread on her shirt. “He said that there’s a lot to do before closing the shift.”

“He knows for a fact that we _never_ ask the girls to work late at night. What the hell is he even thinking?!”

“Well, that’s fine,” She reassures, giggling cutely. “He only scheduled me in until eleven thirty tonight. Besides!” Rose’s fingertips barely graze his wrist, and Jung-Kook reflexively jerks his hand back. What the hell, she’s so touchy-feely today.

Rose doesn’t seem phased by his reaction, though. “That just means you’ll have me to keep you company, even if it’s only for an hour. Isn’t that nice?”

Jung-Kook nods briefly in agreement, but for some unknown reason, there’s a nagging worry clawing at his insides that he can’t ignore. As if it were foreshadowing something terrible to happen later on.

* * *

 

“I recognize you,” Ye-Rim says, glancing at Yoongi’s crooked nameplate with squinted eyes. “Ah. Yoongi- _sshi_. You’re the security guard that kept giving me the stank face a few weeks back.”

Not one to beat around the bush, Yoongi thinks with a chuckle. “Tell me:  What would’ve been a more appropriate reaction? You were literally eating copious amounts of processed sugar and salt.” 

“Hmm, oh, I don’t know. Perhaps, minding your own business and looking the other way?”

 _She’s got me there._ Yoongi clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. They haven’t exchanged more than a few words with one another, but he has a feeling that they’ll get along very well.  “That aside, I actually didn’t expect to see you here on a Wednesday. Don’t you normally come on Fridays?”

Apprehensive, Ye-Rim taps the sole of her sneaker against the floor. “Um, it’s - it’s a long story.”

“I’ll bet.” Yoongi gestures towards the snacks she had in her grasp. “Is that for Kook?”

Ye-Rim laughs, finally loosening up around him. “Obviously. Who else would it be for?”

Before Yoongi has a chance to reply, loud, piercing squeaks from sneakers resonates through the air. He watches as Ye-Rim's head snaps up, her complexion paling and shoulders tensing at the sight of a tall, thin girl slinging a casual arm around Jung-Kook's shoulder.

 _A knee-jerk reaction_ , Yoongi concludes. _She must’ve seen something like this before._

Ye-Rim doesn’t know who this mysterious person is, but there’s no denying the mature sexuality that she carried in her gait. Forceful, yet still feminine and graceful in a way. Good Lord, that incredibly small waistline. Her pearly whites that she kept flashing every few seconds in Jung-Kook's direction. Flat where needed, curvy where she should be. Her quiet air of confidence.

Ye-Rim suddenly feels self-conscious in her plain sweater and jeans; her foundation and pink glossed lips seems so childish now. Biting her lower lip, she shuts her eyes, inhaling deeply to keep herself calm.

_This is June sixteenth all over again._

* * *

 

Unbeknownst to Ye-Rim, Jung-Kook is just as – if not more – on edge.

Yoongi- _hyung_ isn’t the tallest, nor is he the nicest or the most attractive person out there, but damn: He must be doing something right if he managed to make Ye-Rim laugh within five minutes of meeting her. 

Jung-Kook's hand unconsciously clenches into a fist, then releases. He knows very well that his stupid behaviour (Namely, the dratted emotion that started with a 'j' - but he isn't going to admit it so easily right then and there) is unjustified; they weren't doing anything out of the ordinary - they were just standing and talking!

But even so, he can’t help but let an inaudible “Asshole” escape his throat. 

Everybody can sense it: The grocery store air is thick and heavy with jealousy, and Yoongi questions for a fleeting moment whether his life was at stake.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I really like writing about jealous, insecure Ye-Rim and Jung-Kook. LOL. I have no idea why. I'm a terrible person LOLOL.)
> 
> Thank-you for reading!! :3


	5. Rim-Kook.

Sometimes, having excellent long-term memory can be seen as both a blessing and a curse. It’s great for purposes of nostalgia, such as when Ye-Rim lamented over her late grandmother and their ice-cream outings back when she was a chubby toddler: Simpler times that she could no longer return to, but at least the memory was clearly intact when her tongue tasted vanilla and chocolate swirl.

The downside, of course, was that Ye-Rim retained practically _everything._ From the names of every single classmate from her graduating class to every single amusement park ride in Lotte World to all the books she read –

And the chaotic disaster that was June sixteenth.    

Exhale. Inhale. Breathe.

It’s not working. Shit.

And closing her eyes isn’t doing much to help the situation, either; every time she does, she experiences the same horrifying flashback. Over, and over, and over – like a movie that deliberately rewound to the climax to induce sadistic pleasure.

And even if Ye-Rim doesn’t _want_ to remember, her brain automatically will. It’s like it was hardwired to save space for the nitty-gritty details from that stifling warm June sixteenth.

Like how that girl – modelesque, blonde, thin with defined muscle, leggy just like the one clinging onto him now like a koala – had left a scandalous mark of rouge on the side of his neck.  She herself wore a new Etude House release. Something cherry-flavoured and bright-pink:  Perfect for innocent little school girls who didn’t know any better. That lipstick smudge, stained messily on the collar of his shirt, was a mark of malignant triumph; after all, that bitch had _always_ wanted to get her dirty hands on Jung-Kook.

And she did, relishing viciously as the younger girl gapped at them from afar. The waterworks don’t start until much later.

_“Hmph. Someone’s salty.”_

Like how her elbows and wrists started to sting from him chasing after her, down, down, down the street, grabbing at her wildly with twitching fingers. What pained her more? Was it her fatigued limbs, or her heart shattering into unsalvageable pieces from ugly betrayal?

Probably both.

_“No.  Ye-Rim. God. Please. Stop.”_

Like how his usually warm brown eyes slowly deepened to the shade of coal:  Full of rage, as she angrily shouted at him, asking for explanations. And him, barking at her with the same tenacity – much to her astonishment. Who was _he_ to be snarking at her about this and that when she caught him in the act? Tempers running high, Ye-Rim's palm was virtually itching to give him a well-deserved slap to the face. 

_“So?! Explain, then! I’m giving you all the time in the world to do exactly that. And all you’re doing is spewing out excuses like there’s no tomorrow. I trusted you. I really did. But Jeon Jung-Kook, things like that don’t happen by accident, especially when you haven’t resolved your first and foremost relationship!”_

And it was normally at this point of her recollection of the incident where her heart would start to behave rather funnily:  Clenching and unclenching uncomfortably in an unrecognizable rhythm. At first, she thought of making a trip to the physician for a check-up but decided against it.

If anything, it was probably overworking itself from heartbreak. It’s possible, right? People literally _died_ from heartache – ‘Taktsubo cardiomyopathy’, if she recalls from her readings:  Something about stress hormone surges and the like.

_“You’re not going to leave me hanging like this! Jeon Jung-Kook. Answer me! Did you actually like me or not?!”_

And Ye-Rim remembers dreading his answer, but ultimately realized that whether she liked it or not, some form of closure was necessary. And closure, she received – taking shape in silent affirmation and a bewildered expression on his face, incapable of uttering a single word.

None of it was fake, after all:  All those cautionary anecdotes about him hiding a sly, flirtatious persona underneath his nerdy exterior with the thick-rimmed glasses. All those warning signs she had purposefully ignored because her pubescent feelings grew uncontrollable. Soo-Hyun wasn’t behaving like that out of spite or jealousy. 

One year of feelings wasted on this deplorable jackass.   

_“That’s all the confirmation I need. I’ll make the job painless for you. Don’t talk to me ever again, asshole.”_

But how paradoxical life is, to say the least.

The fifteen-year-old her threw away all traces of his existence into a gigantic campfire, burning away his cards of encouragement, secret notes full of smileys and embarrassing Polaroids taken into oblivion. Burning the bridge that lead to the destination of dread known as Jeon- _Fucking_ -Jung-Kook.

And what is she doing now?

Actually _engaging_ in small talk without blowing up in his face. Delivering drinks and snacks. Being an absolute hypocrite, and not minding it one bit. Slowly, but surely repairing that bridge – brick by brick.   

Aside from now, that is. The only thing that she wants to do is demolish whatever progress made with ten sticks of TNT.  Or a grenade. Either works.

A tiny thwack to her scalp brings her back to reality. “Helloooo in there?” Yoongi calls out, his eyes wary of her odd behaviour. “ _Yah_ , Earth to Rim. Anybody home?”

She tears her gaze away from the equally frozen Jung-Kook, who was completely oblivious to the way that curvaceous model wannabe had her arm interlocked with his. Begrudgingly, she has to admit that the two _would_ make a visually stunning pair. She sees it:  The dashing assistant manager and his beautiful girlfriend – the kind-hearted manager-to-be – in tow. And then seven-ish decades later, their grandchildren will sit, perched on their laps with starstruck gazes as he recounted their romantic meet-cute tale of bonding over rotten kiwis and expired tubs of ice-cream.  

 _Shut up, Kim Ye-Rim. Now is **not** the time to be idolizing over such ridiculous fantasies. _ 

“Y-yes, sir!” Good God, did she really have to add in _‘sir’_? What is she, a police-officer-in-training?! 

There’s a strange look to his eyes that signify he’s taken aback by her high-pitched formality, but Yoongi doesn’t dare say anything else other than, “What the fuck are you gawking at?”

What a big fat lie. Yoongi’s no idiot; he’s just trying to provoke her. Prod her for some reaction that he’ll chuckle about later because he’s just that big of an asshole. 

“Nothing,” She quips, turning her body towards him. Arms crossed against her chest protectively, she sighs, “I’m just hoping for an accelerated march towards death. My life is painful enough as is. At least when I’m in Hell, I won’t have – “

Ye-Rim pauses. What she says next could _really_ make or break the situation. But hey, in her defense, it was all Jeon- _Fucking_ -Jung-Kook's fault. And of course, when he’s at fault, he deserves his fucking just deserts.

Even if it makes you cringe. it’s worth it in the long run. At least, that’s what Ye-Rim tries to reinforce in her mind.

“ _Cute_ , baby-faced strangers sending me judgmental stares about my food choices.”

A strangled choke erupts against the cheery, _aegyo_ -full energy of fromis_9’s DKDK blasting from the poorly-crafted speakers sitting in their dusty corners.

And it’s Jeon-Fucking-Jung-Kook, no doubt about it. If Yoongi takes the bait, well, there’s nothing else she can ask for from this world. She’d gladly die in peace.

“You know, Rim?” Yoongi says, cocking his head to the side. That challenging gaze he’s giving her – maybe she’s just basking in the euphoria of giving Jeon-Fucking-Jung-Kook his comeuppance and was feeling overly victorious, but she sees a sliver of admiration shining in his eyes. “If your hair wasn’t so lifeless, I would probably date you.”

It’s a backhanded compliment, but surmising that Yoongi wasn’t the type to drop them regularly, she’ll take whatever she can get. “I’d like to point out the irony that you’re calling out the health of _my_ hair when you, yourself,” She gestures towards the stringy mop of crimson. “Have that awful blood-red birds’ nest sitting on your head.” 

 _Birds’ nest, huh? That’s a first._ “My hairstylist is an experimental son of a gun,” Yoongi explains, his jaw twitching in amusement. “Perhaps in a parallel universe, where we _both_ have hair that the Duchess of Cambridge will be envious for, and when you’re free from the clutches of an old high school demonic _some_.”

“Now, that’s a bit much, isn’t it? Calling him demonic?”

Yoongi chuckles, pressing two fingers against his temple. “With the way he’s stabbing imaginary daggers at us through his eyes right now? I beg to differ.” 

Hook, line, and sinker. He’s playing along.

 And Ye-Rim is savouring every single second of it.

“Forget him,” She says, rejoicing internally. “He doesn’t need the coffee. Here.”

Ye-Rim shoves the cup forcefully into Yoongi’s open hand. Unfortunately for him, he’s a bit slow on the uptake – some of the murky liquid spills out of the cup, splattering onto the floor in a splash. “You can take it.”

It’s a bad idea. This is a _really_ terrible idea. He sees it from a mile away (Or, to be more precise, seven meters – but that doesn’t matter right now):  The seething youngster’s nostrils are flaring like a fictional dragon waiting to submerge its enemies (Namely, him) in a vicious fire.

Jesus Christ, it’s time for a prayer. The aura he’s radiating right now literally _screams_ psychotic.

“Rim, I like pigging out at night as much as you do, but I have to say, caffeine isn’t something that I drink after the sun sets. It disrupts my sleep cycle.”

She’s dead-serious when she says, “Coffee tastes better microwaved, Yoongi- _sshi_.”

While there are many things Yoongi doesn’t want to admit, there is one thing he needs to acknowledge about the plucky Ye-Rim: She’s ridiculously audacious – even more so when she has an idea. And no matter how ludicrous it may be, she needs to see it through to fruition.

That kind of determination – albeit, in this case, used for the wrong purposes – isn’t something most people have, but it’s just one more positive quality to add to her list of never-ending charms. No wonder Jung-Kook's still so enamored by her presence.

But still: Making Jung-Kook jealous is dicey business, and frankly, he’s not sure if he really wants to play a part anymore.  Barack Obama once taught him to ‘ _always hold onto your dreams_ ’ (Or something like that), and Yoongi’s one desire was to publish his first novel before being reported in the newspaper as missing and (Inevitably) dismembered.  “I’ve heard...otherwise.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” A rude snark interrupts Jung Eunji’s seductive vocals in Eung-Eung, followed by heavy footsteps. “What nonsensical bullshit are you shooting out of your ass, Rim?”

* * *

 

Oh. Hell. No. Hell to the fucking **_no_**.

Ye-Rim did _not_ just call Yoongi- _hyung_ cute.

Firstly, what universe was she living in? Did she bang her head somewhere, or was it the flaxseed overloading that was screwing up proper neuronal functioning in her brain?

And two, in what form was he adorable, for Christ’s sake?! Was it his nose? He’s heard some of the customers (Middle-aged ladies with saggy wrinkles and the like) ogling that imperfect ski slope with the slight curve near the tip. Or, was it his uber thin lips? The damn dude didn’t even moisturize with Burt’s Bees! Hell, did he even know what Burt’s Bees was?! Or was it his hair?! Jung-Kook's stylish undercut was infinitely better!

_Alright. Keep calm. Keep. Calm._

“Hmm, would you look at that?” The unsuspecting Rosé exclaims, nodding her head towards the chatting pair. “I didn’t know Yoongi had it in him to flirt with pretty girls while on duty.”

Okay, _that’s_ it.

Wringing Rosé’s arm away as politely as he could (Which took up much willpower, mind you), Jung-Kook storms towards them, his posture threatening and glinting teeth bared into a strained smile. Ripping the beverage out of Yoongi’s hand, he downs it in one shot.

Yoongi watches on in awe, letting out a low-tuned whistle. Forget ‘psychotically hostile’; they’re both borderline hysterical at this point.

Jung-Kook tosses the cup into the nearest wastebasket with deadly accuracy, sending a steely glare at the unperturbed younger girl all the while. “You could remember that the coffee is mine, _hyung_. Thanks, RIm. One coffee down, three more to go.”

“ _Yours_?”  Yoongi remarks with a tilted eyebrow. “You’re referring to the coffee, right? And nothing else? ‘Cause take it from me, Kook:  Possessiveness isn’t a good look on you.” The scrutinizing gaze on his face disappears when Rosé approaches them apprehensively from behind, hovering close to Jung-Kook. Yoongi sends her a welcoming grin. “Aren’t you supposed to be on your break, Rosie? You can go back inside.”

“Nah, it’s all good!” She chirps back. “I just want to help Kookie out with a few things first. I don’t mean to be rude, but um,” Her eyes shift from the internally raging Jung-Kook to the stony-looking girl. Whoever she is, she certainly doesn’t seem impressed - or is she just trying to mask her anger about something? Either way, her mother _always_ taught her to be polite and friendly – even when the circumstances showed otherwise.

And so, that’s what she’ll be.

“I’m sorry, but am I intruding on something here?”

* * *

 

First impressions are important. And Ye-Rim loathes herself for admitting it, but damn, what a dazzling first impression this girl delivered. 

The first thing was her voice. That accent is rather unique, and while Ye-Rim isn’t as well-traveled as her trust-fund baby friend, Seung-Hwan, even _she_ can pinpoint where this mysterious girl originates from: Down under in good ol' Australia, with the kangaroos and wallabies and gigantic spiders that should be incinerated.

It’s sinewy but lithe, and undeniably pleasant to the ear. And now that Ye-Rim got a good close-up view of her, the only thing that she could stammer was, _‘God damn, my skincare routine isn’t working’_. She’s wearing an assortment of white buttons with bolded text printed on them, pinned just beneath her name tag hiding behind her forearm. Things like ‘HELLO! I SPEAK ENGLISH’ and ‘HELLO! I SPEAK KOREAN’ and – what the hell? ‘HELLO! I SPEAK JAPANESE’.

Case closed:  She’s beautiful, well-educated and smart – and seems to have mastered the art of adulting well without any major hiccoughs unlike herself. She's clearly one of those types that could whip up kale and cabbage into a delicious salad, spiralize zucchini into thin, low-carb noodles in place of _ramen_ and went to hot yoga ceremoniously. 

 _Ugh_.    

Those _would’ve_ been perfectly valid reasons to dislike Ms. Mango-Smoothies-And-Hummus, but try as she might, Ye-Rim can’t dig up enough hatred within her to detest the poor girl.

 _That’s because she’s not at fault here. You know that._ Ye-Rim's reasonable side is at work here. And indeed, as she clamps her teeth onto her lower lip and exhales, she realizes that there’s virtually no reason for her to behave with such hostility towards her.

_(Well, aside from the fact that Ye-Rim was envious of her svelte figure)._

So, much to everyone’s surprise, Ye-Rim extends a firm hand outward for a welcoming handshake. When the taller girl uncrosses her arms against her chest, Ye-Rim barely gets a good glimpse at her name printed neatly on the plastic nametag.

Rose.

Well, they didn’t name her wrong. She certainly _looks_ like one, blooming beautifully into young adulthood with red cheeks and bright eyes full of spirited youth and vigor. But wait, it’s not spelled like the quintessential Valentine’s Day flower.  There’s a small tick, slanted upward, sitting just above the ‘E’. Rose-Eh? That doesn’t sound right. Rose- _Ay_? Wasn’t that the name for a rather tasty bubbly? Were her parents champagne connoisseurs? Most importantly, how the hell do you write the Hangul for it?!

“Kim Ye-Rim,” She introduces with a satirical smile, pushing those thoughts out of her mind. “I’m an outdated model from five years ago.”

“Oh, um – “ Just before Rosé can open her mouth to respond with a proper sentence, Jung-Kook interrupts with a smooth roll of his eyes and a gruff shove against her shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s _real_ cute, Rim.”

“Thank-you.” Cold and calculating: it sends a terrifying chill up Rosé's spine. “I do my best.”

“She’s so rude, Rosé,” Jung-Kook comments under his breath, braving an attempt to pinch Ye-Rim's nose. “Really, I apologize.”

“I’m not being rude,” She counters defensively, narrowing her gaze as she slaps his hand away. “I’m merely giving her advice.”

“Advice?” Rosé questions warily, attempting to keep her tone neutral. That ‘outdated model’ snark was strange enough as is, and now Jung-Kook and Ye-Rim's odd behaviour was just adding to her growing list of suspicions. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, I am so glad you asked!” Ye-Rim exclaims. “You’re in for a wild trip down the rabbit hole, Rosé- _sshi_. Let me tell you _all_ about it.”

* * *

 

God. Good fucking God. Of _course_ , Jung-Kook thinks to himself in irritation, Ye-Rim's going to bring up their past history. And the prospect terrifies the wits out of his body.

See, he needs to clarify one thing here. Jung-Kook doesn’t regret what he did back then.

_(To clarify before a mob of pitchforks and torches chase after him with murderous intent, no, he never cheated)._

But yes. He agrees with Tae-Hyung that it was a dick move. And yes, when Jimin inquired whether he felt guilty, he (Very reluctantly) confessed that his heart did lurch ever so slightly when he saw crystal-like droplets leaking from the corners of her eyes – especially so when she shouted at him in fury, telling him to jump off a bridge – but _truly,_ he believed that he was doing something for Ye-Rim's greater good.

 _“You think it was worth it? Losing a friend like that?”_ Jimin would say as they relaxed around the quiet dormitory lounge back in Jung-Kook's first year.

To which Jung-Kook would confidently reply, _“She’s not the type to back down with a fight. Of course, it was.”_

At least, that’s what his defense was.

Yet, after seeing Ye-Rim again recently, there’s an urge within him that wants to retract that statement.  And was this foreign feeling bubbling in the pit of his stomach what people referred to as ‘regret’? He’s not so sure.

But one thing is though:  Even if Ye-Rim does blab out her biased and drawn-out tale of heartache to Rosé, Jung-Kook doesn’t really care. He’s not afraid of Rosé’s judgment, because firstly, the sweet Aussie wasn’t that type of girl. Plus, if one were to think about this logically with common sense, would Rosé really be foolish enough to believe the words of a stranger that she just met five minutes ago?

Of course not.

Jung-Kook braces himself with a deep breath. He can take it. He’ll take her verbal pummeling like the man he is.    

“He plays too many video games,” She says curtly, followed by, “And his hands are always sweaty.”

Oh, is _that_ what she’s getting at? Painting him in a negative light? Well then. Two can play at this game.

“Rim, have you even _looked_ at your reflection recently?” Jung-Kook snaps. “You’re so green with envy, you put the Jolly Green Giant to shame.”

 _When attacked, ignore. Ignore, ignore, ignore. Let the words go in one ear, and out the other._ “He’s not the nicest guy on the planet. He won’t let you win on DDR, because he’s an egotistical asshole that likes hogging first place.”

“Not my fault you’re born like Bambi.”

“He likes stealing chocolate bars after charming cashiers with his smile.”

“Wow, Kook, is that how you end up bringing home so many packets of Reese’s?” Yoongi suddenly chimes in, a teasing grin on his face.

“Ugh, _hyung_. Shut _up_.”

“I think I’ve made my point,” Ye-Rim proclaims with her chest puffing outwards proudly as if she had just won a gold medal in the ‘Talk-Smack-About-Jeon-Jung-Kook' contest. “I’d stay away if I were you, Rosé- _sshi_.”

He’s surprised she stopped there, but nonetheless, it’s time for retaliation. “It’s Rose- _Ay,_ you dumb duck. Emphasis is on the latter syllable.”

“What is with you and your animal comparisons, noodle-brain?!”

“Well, I would stop,” Jung-Kook says matter-of-factly. “But that ugly, puffy jacket of yours isn’t doing you any favours.” To prove his point, he lifts both arms out into the air and bends his elbows, flapping them exaggeratedly like a squawking chicken would in Ye-Rim's face. “Ruffle your feathers a little more, Rim. _BWACK_.”

“Ducks don’t _bwack_ , dimwit!”

“Alright. That’s enough,” Rosé says, raising her hand to keep the peace – or, more accurately, ensuring that Jung-Kook doesn’t smother the younger girl to death with his _faux_ wings. 

“If you think I’m bad,” he says. “Ye-Rim’s even worse, Yoongi- _hyung_. I implore you:  Don’t date this monstrous being. Her feet smell like rotten feces – ”

Not that Yoongi actually had thoughts of dating a friends’ ex- _some_ , but his curiosity got the best of him. “Now, _where_ on Earth have you had the golden opportunity to smell rotten shit?”

“Don’t you know, Yoongi- _sshi_?” Ye-Rim interrupts smugly. “His face is literally caked in it.”

“You just _don’t know_ when to shut up, do you?”

Amidst the heavy breathing and the silent steel-tinted staring contest commencing between the two, Rosé takes advantage of their quietude to tug onto Yoongi’s jacket, mumbling softly, “We should get out of here.”

He nods in agreement. “Before they drag us into their mess.”

And so, they do, disappearing swiftly and silently as possible into the silent night air.              

* * *

 

Jung-Kook would like to say that he had a high tolerance for stupidity, but that comment – that _shitty_ comment (Pun unintentional) was the last straw for him tonight “What the hell are you doing?!” He hisses, gesturing towards Yoongi’s retreating backside haphazardly while spraying spit everywhere. “Why do you feel the need to flirt up my co-worker?!”

“Firstly,” Ye-Rim retorts, wiping her face clean with the back of her sleeve, and then rubbing remnants of his ‘dirty water’ on his shirt. “Ew. And secondly, so what if I was? At the very least, Yoongi- _sshi_ seems much more mature than a certain 97-liner that I know!”

“Ugh.” Jung-Kook turns away from her, rubbing his palm against his forehead. “You – you insufferable _twit_.”

“Insult me all you want,” She says, daringly so. “I’m immune. That’s also beside the point. Why do you care?!”

“I - “ His mind is drawing a blank. Shit. She’s right; why is she _always_ right when they’re in an argument? He’s supposed to be the one with the sharp mind and the witty tongue. He’s the one who’s studying to be a lawyer, damnit! The one that headed the debate club! Where does that persona disappear to when he’s facing Ye-Rim!?

“You had a choice, Kookpa,” The way she hisses his name makes his insides sting discomfortingly. He suddenly feels a forceful push and realizes that Ye-Rim had shoved him with both hands against a shelf full of sour candies. A package of gummy worms falls onto his head with a plop. “Just like how back then, you had a choice whether you wanted to resolve things like the adult you claimed to be, and not lead another girl on for a full year.”

Closing his eyes, he mutters darkly, “Rim. You don’t even know half of the story.”

“I don’t care.” She takes one step forward, her body standing dangerously close. “You had a choice on whether you wanted to see me cry or not.”

_I know. And I fucking hate seeing your eyes bloodshot._

“And lastly,” Ye-Rim finishes with clenched fists. “You had a choice whether you wanted to let the biggest bitch known to mankind throw her quivering body all over you just to show me up and get some dick!”

That strikes a nerve. And ouch, her words burn painfully into his flesh – just like fresh lacerations inflicted on his skin.     

Jung-Kook can’t help but let his hidden anger emerge from the cracks. Sending her a furious glare, his jaw juts out and he pushes her back roughly; she winces when he spits out bitterly, “You _brat_. I – “

 _I did it with good intentions in mind?_ No. It’s better that she doesn’t know.

“Forget it, I don’t want to hear any more lousy excuses,” Ye-Rim snaps, brushing his arm away to escape his cage he built around her with his body. “You know what? Dating Yoongi- _oppa_ seems like a brilliant idea now.”

“Fine!” Jung-Kook shouts at her figure stalking away haughtily. “Date him for all I care! Coddle him with your nauseating _aegyo_!” _And shower him with compliments from those pouty lips and puppy-dog eyes dripping with honey! Do it! I dare you!_

“I think I will!” What the _fuck_?! No, no, no, this isn’t supposed to happen! He needs to stop her before she develops an even more ‘brilliant idea’! “At least he can appreciate a good thing when he sees it!”

Jung-Kook gnaws on his lower lip, visibly cringing. _I’m never going to live this down._ “Jung-Kookie is so upset!“ He shrieks in his most high-pitched, cutesy voice that he reserved solely for his mother whenever she grew furious with him. “ ** _So_** , so upset.”

Oh, Lord. This isn’t - this isn’t his K.O. attack, is it? Ye-Rim's steps slow to a sudden halt as her stomach starts to flip-flop uneasily; she feels as sick as a pregnant woman in her first trimester.  “What the _fuck_ did you just say?!” Whirling around, she finds herself recoiling at the sight standing before her: A puffy-cheeked, pouty-lipped and red-faced Jung-Kook had his hands resting on his hips.

It’s traumatizing, to say the least.

“I said,” He repeats in the same sickly saccharine way. “I am _so_ upset, I don’t even feel like working, anymore. And it’s all – “

**_Stomp._ **

“Your – “

**_Stomp._ **

“Fault!”

Instant annihilation. Ye-Rim's soul has physically departed into the afterlife.

(And subsequently returned, because the Grim Reaper had asked her to give Jung-Kook a good beating on behalf of everyone living in Hell).

“You're not good-looking enough to pull off this shit!” She retorts with shaking fists. “I will _end_ you if you keep this charade up, you – you piece of work!”

“Oh, Rim-Rim,” Jung-Kook sighs with droopy eyebrows and a sulky pout. “I am SO – **_HURT_**.”

She can’t. She literally is _out of cannots_. Any remaining thoughts of Rosé dissipate from her mind altogether as she trudges towards him and yanks painfully on the apples of his cheeks.   

“Stop it. **STOP IT BEFORE I _KILL YOU_**.”

“OW! GRIM!” Jung-Kook wraps Ye-Rim in a chokehold, but she’s fighting back with all her might. Her grip on his face tightens, and he wonders for a split second if continuous pinching would sprout new wrinkles. “RHET GWO!”

“ ** _NO_**!”

So, here they are, looking absolutely absurd as they fumbled down the aisle in an entangled knot, crashing into the neatly-organized shelves occasionally with the items sitting on higher platforms threatening to tumble down onto them. 

“OW!” Ye-Rim shrieks as her hip collides into a shelf full of chip bags, momentarily losing her grip on his aching right cheek –

And just like that, the resulting impact was substantial enough for a lonely salsa jar – already standing precariously on the edge of the eighth shelf – to tip over and fall. Ye-Rim glances upward, eyes widening in horror as the glass container continues its free-fall with no signs of stopping until it strikes his head. He's going to suffer some serious repercussions if she doesn't do anything!

There's no time to think about the situation further. Without letting go, Ye-Rim awkwardly headbutts his chest while shouting, “Kookpa, look out!”

“H-huh?!”

Jung-Kook doesn't have much time to register what happens. All he feels is a jutting ache against his ribcage and her petite figure toppling like a domino piece on top of him, and onto the dirty floor.  

**_CRASH._ **

* * *

 

It’s been nearly twenty minutes, and Rosé is sick with concern.

“Do you think they’re okay?” She asks worriedly, rubbing her forearms up and down to preserve her body heat. She should’ve brought her sweater with her, but the situation had turned too perilous for them to linger inside the supermarket any longer.

Yoongi doesn’t reply, and it was only then that she realized her fellow companion had fallen asleep. She prods him with a finger, calling out, “Yoongi?”

“Ugh, yes?” He replies tiredly, itching his eyelid. “What’s up?”

“You fell asleep!? In negative five weather?! Incredible,” She shakes her head. “I’m worried about Kookie! Don’t you think we should go check?”

“Incredible?” Yoongi repeats, scoffing. “Rather, I find _you_ incredible. Aren’t you the least bit upset?”

“About what?” Rosé asks, but then her bemused facial expression clears into one of understanding. “Oh, that girl and Kookie? I have a small crush on him, yeah, but I don’t have Cupid’s arrow stuck up my ass. Who has time to worry about something as petty as _that_ when it’s blatantly obvious they’re going to murder each other?!”

“Oh, trust me,” He says with a casual wave. “I’ve seen enough of their attempts to last a lifetime. It’s all bark and no bite.”

“I um, I’m sorry, Yoongi. I’m just not convinced.”

“Oh, Rosie. Are all you Aussies _this_ nice?” He points towards the window that gave them a clear view of what had commenced while they took refuge in the cold. “Go take a good look.”

* * *

 

Jung-Kook's first reaction should’ve been something along the lines of, _“Get off me, you’re heavy”_. It’s resting on the tip of his tongue, but there’s something that forces him to swallow his words back into his throat.

That something being the tiny body that was currently resting atop of him, her head resting comfortably in the crook of his neck. It’s not like this was premeditated, but their sudden skin-ship makes his heart flutter nonetheless. Her breath is shaky as she stammers weakly, “T-That was close.” And then hesitantly, she steals a curious peek at him. “K-Kookpa, are you okay?“

He doesn’t reply. Instead, he asks softly while flattening a few pieces of stray hair, “Are you still mad?”

“...We - ugh,” She sighs, exasperated. “No, _you_ nearly died from salsa and _that’s_ all you care about? Whether I’m still upset?”

“Just _answer_ the damn question!”

“...”

“A-and _get off me_!” Jung-Kook adds hastily, even though deep, deep down, he really didn‘t want her to. “Jesus Christ, you’re heav – “

“...No. No, I’m not,” Ye-Rim interrupts, covering her eyes with her hands. Maybe she's trying to hide that reddening blush creeping onto her face. “I don’t care if you called me a duck. Just. Promise me one thing, okay?" She takes a breath to recompose her thoughts before murmuring, "No more _aegyo._ Seriously. I will vomit in eight different languages.”

At last, Jung-Kook lets out a bleak laugh of relief.

There were so many things that she could yell at him for:  The insults exchanged, their failed attempts at making each other jealous. And...all that she got out of it was the duck comment? Yeesh. It's nice seeing her vulnerable soft side turn up on occasion, though. That's for sure. So, he says softly, almost apprehensive, "You don’t know eight languages, dummy.”

Ye-Rim gives his upper arm a teasing smack. “Shut your trap!”

_Annnd, we’re back to normal._

* * *

 

“See?” Yoongi says, chuckling as Rosé creeps out of the supermarket after eavesdropping on their conversation from the main entrance. “They’re doing just fine.”

“I do have to say,” Rosé admits, craning her head towards the glass window to get a better look. Even from outside, she can hear their noisy bickering resume:  She catches a few muddle sentences here and there; Ye-Rim's squealing about how she’s not paying for damaged goods when it was purely Earth’s gravitational pull at fault. Letting out a charming laugh, she says, “They’re pretty adorable when they’re shouting at one another.”

“Hella annoying, you mean.”

“No. That’s not right,” Rosé corrects. “This is young love! Pure, puppy love!”

“In love?” Yoongi splutters. “ _That’s_ love?!”

“C’mon! Love comes in many different forms. You see it. I see it.” She glances at him with a knowing smile. “What was her name again?”

“Rim.”

“Huh.” Rosé presses a finger against her chin in contemplation. “Rim-Kook?”

“Nah. How about – " Yoongi snaps his fingers, nodding. "JungRi?”

“Ooh! That’s cute. I like it.” Rosé’s eyes suddenly glimmer. “Hey, I have a great idea! Why don’t we start a fan-club at work with the rest of our co-workers?!”

“For a smart girl like yourself, that’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard and the last fucking thing we need,” He says with an eye-roll. “No thanks, Rosie.” 

“Yoongi!" She calls out in a desperate plea, chasing after him to the back entrance. "Wait up! It’s – it’s just a suggestion!”

But knowing her with her background in marketing and media studies, she's most likely going to follow through with a well-designed flyer to post on their staff bulletin board anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who watch K-Dramas, can you guess where the aegyo scene was inspired from? 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> If you guessed Fight My Way, yes, indeed, you're correct! :D LOL. I hope you enjoyed!


	6. Kook-Rim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I just wanted to drop a quick note here. Before you proceed, this chapter will dwell into somewhat uncomfortable (Possibly triggering) topics including derogatory terms used against women and mentions of bullying, harassment and assault. As this is a rather sensitive topic that many may find disturbing, please feel free to click out at any time. 
> 
> And for those of you who have endured such terrible things, I sincerely hope that all of you are in much better places now and send you all of my love. 
> 
> Lastly, I decided to use NCT's Tae-Yong to draw inspiration for the antagonist in this story. I mean absolutely no harm towards the fandom, nor to the group themselves.

The slow Friday evening starts off with a courteous good-bye, a “You worked hard today!” to the exhausted teenager desperate for a bed and an aching, breaking back (“Joonie- _hyung_ , don’t you dare sing that awful country jam in my presence”) that Jung-Kook had been nursing hot pads on since Wednesday. As he stalks off to get himself dressed, he reminds himself to be warier around the peppy fireball. After all, Ye-Rim was no longer that light-as-a-feather teenager he used to hoist around on his back.

_(But that didn’t stop him from relishing in her scent after. Creepy as it sounds, she did smell utterly fantastic when her frame was pressed up against his.)_

But all lingering memories of being drowned in a heavy fog of Downy and vanilla-cinnamon vanishes from his mind when he sees it. The rosy colour in his complexion completely drains out of his face as a trembling hand reaches out for the piece of paper fluttering away.

Plastered on the light-brown cork board was a flyer. And not just _any_ flyer. It’s one of Rosé’s creations, emblazoned with her trademark on the very left corner:  Her initials, RP, printed in a swirly cursive teal. There’s a reason why Nam-Joon always requested that she design their weekly flyers: She has a particular eye for colour coordination. The flyer was no exception to this with its nauseating royal-purple and banana-yellow combination.

But nevermind that small detail. It was the _title,_ the centered text of Calibri Light sitting underneath and – subsequently – the poorly-drawn stick figures that had his attention captivated.  

“ARE YOU INTERESTED IN FANBOYING/FANGIRLING?”

_No. NO. **NO. NO.**_

“WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE OUR FAVOURITE ASSISTANT MANAGER FINALLY DATING SOMEONE HE LIKES, INSTEAD OF TURNING DOWN EVERY ATTRACTIVE YOUNG WOMAN THAT SLIPS HIM THEIR NUMBER ON THEIR RECEIPTS?”

 _That’s_ news to Jung-Kook. “T-they do that?!” Ah. Hang on. That would explain the clumped-up balls of dried paper that mysteriously made a home for themselves in the front pocket of his apron.

“WELL, WE’VE GOT THE PLACE FOR YOU! WELCOME TO:  THE JUNGRI FANCLUB.”

“NEED MORE INFORMATION? SKEPTICAL OF WHAT THIS IS ABOUT? WONDERING IF ALL THIS IS JUST ONE, GLORIOUS PRANK?”

“Oh. Please, for the love of God, let this be the latter.”

“PRANK, IT IS **_NOT_**! COME JOIN US FOR OUR FIRST MEETING: DECEMBER 3RD"

“First meeting, my fucking ass!”

“E-MAIL JUNGRI.FANCLUB@KOREANAMART.COM FOR FURTHER DETAILS. WE LOOK FORWARD TO HEARING FROM YOU!”

There’s nothing but dead silence as if all time had halted. He skims through the content once. Twice, with his hands scrunching the edges into a crumpled mess. Thrice while a purplish vein throbbed violently on the side of his neck.  

JungRi.

Seriously. **_JUNGRI_**?!

Jung-Kook already has an inkling of an idea as to who had _this_ much time to waste on something so trivial (The flyer designer, obviously, and probably his two most favourite _hyung_ s’ on this planet), but what left him baffled was:  Why?! **_Why_** , for crying out loud? And what on Earth was that god-awful image? It stuck out amongst the text like a sore thumb! He doesn’t mean to criticize, but has Rosé forgotten what he actually _looked_ like? Yoongi- _hyung_ was the one with enviable, twig-thin legs! Not him! He didn’t spend two hours at the gym doing heavy squats for nothing! And Ye-Rim. Shit, if Ye-Rim saw this, there’s a one hundred percent chance that she’ll freak out at him (Completely unjustified, mind you) for that rather inaccurate representation.

Firstly, she’s blonde. Blonde implicates _some_ shade of yellow, right? So, someone:  Please tell him why she’s wearing the shaggy straight lines into a hazelnut-coloured ponytail. Secondly, she may have gained some weight over the years, but why did Rose draw two bulbous balloons for her face? She looks nothing like a chipmunk!

And worst of all, **_WHAT ON EARTH WERE THESE TWO STICK FIGURES DOING?_** Hugging? Embracing?! Doing unnecessarily naughty stuff on the grocery store floor?

_To:  Rosie Park_

_YAH! Park Chae-Young! What on Earth is THIS?!  Why did you draw me so thin? Why does Rim look like a five-year-old in this?!  TELL M_

Midway through his text, Jung-Kook's hands suddenly fall limp to his sides; his phone dangles precariously between his sweaty fingers, threatening to crash onto cement and shatter.

Because he realizes in utmost horror:  Their parodical portrayal on paper should be the _least_ of his concerns. 

A shrill Soprano shriek of “ ** _WHAT THE FUCK!?_** ” reverberates through the musty air and the peaceful tranquility that Kim Nam-Joon took solace in while balancing their checkbooks in the tiny nine-feet office is ultimately disrupted. He knows this is a rather stupid question but is Jung-Kook's shouting truly _that_ powerful to the point that it exploded his ballpoint pen?

He drops it onto the desk and glances at his blue-stained palm with disdain. Yikes.

Apparently, the answer’s yes.

The office door bursts open without any warning, but it’s not like Nam-Joon needed an alarm for his arrival; he could hear Jung-Kook's thundering footsteps from a mile away. So, pretending that he wasn’t completely disturbed by the ink explosion that had just commenced, he clasps his hands together (Why he did that, he doesn’t know and it pains him to think about the clean-up process) and smiles welcomingly at the seething young man.

“How can I help you, Jung-Kookie?”

“Don’t try to play the polite card with me!” Jung-Kook points an accusing finger towards the wide-eyed Nam-Joon. “ _Hyung_ , tell me!” Thrusting the piece of paper into his face, he slams an infuriated fist onto the desk and grits his teeth together upon impact. Fuck, he really needs to watch where he pummels. “What in the hell is this?!”

Nam-Joon's eyes squint into thin scrutinizing slits before murmuring a hollow, “Ah. You saw it.”

“ ** _Ah_**?! That’s all you have to say?”

“Well,” Nam-Joon begins quietly, shuffling his papers together into a neat pile to tuck back into a locked drawer. “I already told Rosie the flyer wasn’t a good idea.”

Wait, is he actually agreeing with him for once? Maybe it’s his ears playing tricks on him. Jung-Kook gives the thin skin on his wrist a good wrench, and he ends up nodding his head vigorously in agreement with the older man. Nope, this isn’t a dream. “You’re god-damn right this isn’t a good idea.”

What Nam-Joon says next drives an already irate Jung-Kook up the wall. On second thought, rendering himself unconscious by banging his head against the crackly drywall seems like a brilliant suggestion right now.  

“Yeah, I think we should’ve advertised a little bit more,” He says, getting up from his office chair. “We’ve only got like three members. I wonder if group activities would’ve made our fanclub a little more enticing. Make it a little spicier, if you will.”

Jung-Kook's mouth falls agape. A tiny sliver of spit dribbles out of the corner of his mouth, and Nam-Joon pushes his chin up to close it. Smirking, he advises, “You’re going to catch flies if you don’t close your lips, Kook.”

“Are you listening to yourself right now?!” Flapping his arms repetitively like a madman, Jung-Kook screeches with embarrassed cheeks, “How can you even allow something like this to exist?!” He loathes to admit it, but there was a tiny part of him (Deep, deep down within the Mariana’s Trench of his hammering heart) wondering what things would even be considered remotely ‘fun’ at their first official meeting:  Writing terrible fan-fiction while listening to sugary-sweet Korean indie? Having contests on whom could draw JungRi better?

(It definitely wouldn’t be Yoongi, that’s for sure.)

“Okay, well,” Nam-Joon says slowly, eagerly anticipating Jung-Kook's endless babble of suggestions to cease. “What would you like me to do with it?”

“Oh, I don’t know!” Jung-Kook spits out maliciously. “You’re the older one here, _hyung_! Why not toss it?! Ever heard of being Earth-friendly and recycling?! Follow Peppa the fucking Pig for once and recycle, recycle, recycle!” Nam-Joon's biting hard on his lower lip to keep himself from spluttering out in uncontrolled laughter. “I don’t care! Get it the fuck outta here! What if Seokjin- _hyung_ decides to drop by randomly from his paternity leave and finds this around?!”

“He won’t.” Nam-Joon folds his hands underneath his chin, boasting an aura of overconfidence.  “Besides, he left me in charge, remember?”

“Uh, FYI, Joonie- _hyung_. It takes two to tango in this grocery store!” Jung-Kook snaps, palming his forehead in exasperation. “Are you forgetting someone?!”

“Now, Kook,” Nam-Joon advises, watching intently as Jung-Kook's face continued to redden to the dangerous shade of volcanic lava. “Keep that blood pressure down.”

“Well, I **_would_** if it weren’t for this bullshit!”

Nam-Joon wrings an arm around Jung-Kook's shoulders, pulling the resisting young man close. “C’mon Kookie!” He croons. “It’s just a little joke between friends. Nothing else to it. What's gotten you so hot and bothered?”

“D-don’t say that! I’m not!” So desperately in denial. It legitimately hurts Nam-Joon's heart to see the youngster like this – but then he notices that even the _tips_ of Jung-Kook's ears were starting to flush crimson-red like Rudolph’s nose. Nam-Joon got this question wrong on one of his final exam questions last semester:  Red ears were often an implication of flushing, which occurs due to – ah, yes, he remembers now.  The answer was intense emotional surges.

Jung-Kook should concede defeat and just give in. It’ll make the world a much more peaceful place and rid any pimple-prone teenager (In this particular case, the mischievous threesome that made up the current membership of the JungRi fanclub) of their acne.

“Kook.” Nam-Joon tugs onto the cartilage of his left ear gently while Jung-Kook's expression morphs into one of pain. “I don’t want to act like some professional body language analyst, but parts of your body are clearly showing otherwise.” 

“Joonie- _hyung_! Let go! That piercing is **_new_**!” He does, and Jung-Kook precariously fixes the beanie he was wearing before stating in a huffish manner, “Please, _hyung_. I would get on my knees and beg, but I don’t need my replacement walking in and imagining that I’m giving you a blowjob. Nobody – and I repeat – **_nobody_** wants to see JungRi propaganda plastered everywhere!”

And that’s when Nam-Joon's lips curl into an abominably wicked smile. “Are you sure? I can count at least one person in this very room who wants to.”

“Not me!”

“Sure, Kook. Sure. Once you’re ready to stop evading the truth – “

A whiny wheedle escapes off the tip of Jung-Kook's tongue. Wrapping his hands around Nam-Joon’s forearm, he swings his slackened limb back and forth like a pendulum while a petulant pout formed on his handsome face. Nam-Joon raises a judgmental eyebrow at him as Jung-Kook croons, “ _Hyuuuuuuuuung_! Don’t do this to me!”

Wrenching his arm out of his grasp, Nam-Joon continues after clearing his throat, “And fulfill our shipping desires, then I’ll consider the possibility of taking it down.”

Automatically, Jung-Kook's deadpan expression returns. “...I used up my one-punch K.O. for naught. Fuck.”

“You can always use it on Rim.”

“Go back to Wednesday’s footage,” Jung-Kook spits out, turning away with a defeated sigh. “And you’ll realize that _totally_ wasn’t the case.”

As the younger man storms out with his messily-tied apron donned on backward, a curious Nam-Joon calls out after him. “Hey! Where are you going?!”

“Drowning myself in Honey Butter chips!” Jung-Kook yells back, fuming. “Because of you, dear _hyung,_ I’m so incredibly stressed to the point that I’m actually going to _cave_ and eat some calorie-packing snacks to rid myself of this trauma!” 

“You? Eat _chips_?!” For a moment, Nam-Joon questions whether they pushed the poor kid too far over the ledge. “We’ve got some pre-packaged celery sticks that we didn’t sell – “

“NO!” Jung-Kook interrupts with his childish scream, reminiscent of a toddler having an inexcusable temper tantrum over taking a bath. “CHIPS I WANT, SO CHIPS I’LL GET!”

Oh. Well. Alright, then.

Seconds later, Nam-Joon chuckles as he hears sudden grunting and the wailing screech of a metal cart being wheeled out from storage. “Oh, young love,” He exhales. “How wonderful.”

Frankly speaking, using ‘wonderful’ as a descriptor here is debatable. Far from it, really:  The infamous JungRi ‘not-yet-a-couple'-couple were definitely _not_ the wholesome types to sit in libraries, tackling infuriatingly complex algebraic equations together. And don’t even think about imagining them in quaint coffeehouses, sipping on hot chocolate while playing with each other's hands shyly. He’s sure Ye-Rim would drop dead on the ground before engaging in such pure frivolities.

One thing was certain though:  They provided great entertainment. So great, Nam-Joon's Netflix account started sending him e-mails as kind reminders to resume his Game of Thrones binge.

And while outsiders may observe and bluntly question whom would even _think_ of locking them in the same room together when the female counterpart was clearly looking to spill innocent blood, Nam-Joon thinks otherwise. They would never be the quintessential Korean drama couple, and that’s perfectly fine.

After all, there’s no fun in seeking out perfection.

Not when the undeniable chemistry between Ye-Rim's overzealous spirit and Jung-Kook's quick-witted teasing lead to the creation of such a beautiful catastrophe.

* * *

 

As it normally was on Friday evenings, the grocery store was completely deserted for the remainder of Jung-Kook's shift. On the plus side, this meant that he had plenty of time to waste by stacking the bulky yellow-tinged bags into neat rows and scanning the barcode printed on the bottom-left corner of the package.  

The downside, of course, meant that there was nobody to distract his ever-occupied mind.  Jung-Kook tries – oh, the poor boy really tries. But no matter what he does – from performing a series of jumping jacks and push-ups to the synthetic bopping in PRISTIN’s Wee-Woo, to playing endless rounds of 2048 on his phone, to tearing through five extra bags of the sinfully tasty Honey Butter chips (And feeling the need to run ten miles soon after) – his thoughts would always drift back to the same person.

That idiotic blonde with the stringy hair that would disappoint her favourite Disney princess, Rapunzel.

That crackbrained fool who thought trekking up the Mount Everest of shelves was a brilliant idea. 

The girl whom he nicknamed after her most beloved movie series of all-time, ‘Pacific Rim’.

_Rim._

In spite of himself, Jung-Kook kicks the empty cardboard box aside and plops down in front of the display, cross-legged. Pressing a clenched fist against his forehead, he sighs.

Yoongi’s words of wisdom from their first encounter replays in his mind like a broken cassette tape and Jung-Kook groans agonizingly, burying his face in his hands.

 _God damnit._ That clever bastard just has to rub it in, doesn’t he?

Admittedly, there were certain parts to that ~~ancient~~ story where Yoongi had completely missed the mark.

For one thing, Jung-Kook had never held _any_ sort of resentment towards Ye-Rim. Not even a smidge, even though he had all right to be after she had given his stupefied face a smack in broad daylight. He’ll never admit it (Even if he’s lying on his deathbed at ninety-nine), but he’ll forever hold a soft spot for the young woman that he was fortunate enough to call his first love.   

_(No, you read that right:  First love. Applause, applause, applause.)_

And two:  Right from the get-go of his plan, Jung-Kook had been fully prepared to face all repercussions of his actions. He was well aware that it wasn’t going to end amicably, but what else could he do to let her down easy with the most lethal weapon possible? The boy had his hands tied, and knowing Rim’s personality, she would never let their _some_ go if she discovered the truth behind his motives.  

So, Jung-Kook had forcibly played the role of the villain. He didn’t like it; he loathed every humiliating minute of it as he watched the tears well up and the last slivers of hope vanish without a trace in her eyes. But it worked in his favour, so at least _that_ was something worth celebrating, right?    

To tell the truth, he’s not so sure whether that was worthy of commemorating anymore.    

And three –

_“Not unless, of course, your behaviour stems much deeper than just immature triviality.”_

If asked a year ago, Jung-Kook would’ve instantaneously declined such a preposterous claim. There’s just too much wit concealed within him, begging to be unleashed in the most vicious of comments to harebrained customers – and Rim was no exception to this.

Or was there?

Even _he_ finds himself waning weakly now. And maybe – just maybe – it’s not her theatrical reactions that he’s seeking anymore.

Is this just him trying to relive a substantial chunk of missed moments with his first love? No. He won’t call this love, because it doesn’t _feel_ like love. Definitely not.  
  
While Jung-Kook muses over the question, he hurries to his feet and discards the remainder of the trash into the recycling. Had Ye-Rim stopped dropping by since their first reunion from weeks back, he wouldn’t be faced with such a confusing enigma now. But with that being said, just the mere prospect of her absence during his Friday evening shifts leaves him with a sense of dread.  

It’s official:  Kim Ye-Rim has left his befuddled mind in haywire. He’s living out ‘The Notebook’ meme; what does _he_ want out of this? Where are they even going now? Are they truly giving friendship another try? Or perhaps, Ye-Rim has already toed past the line?

Whatever the case, it’ll have to wait. He still has a list of tasks to finish up before two o’clock came around.

* * *

 

Ten slowly ticks towards midnight. And then one o’clock. And then, half an hour until two.

Craning his head towards the stationary doors that haven’t swung open once in the past few hours, Jung-Kook purses his lips together in an anxious grimace. Despite her perpetual clumsiness (A la trekking up shelves for chicken soup), she’s perfectly capable of fending for herself. And of course, considering the fact that finals were looming overhead (Three weeks, and Jung-Kook still hasn’t cracked a single textbook open), Ye-Rim was more than likely swamped with end-of-term assignments to finish. And besides, if she were to land her coveted internship positions, she’ll need to beat out the rest with crème de la crème grades.

It’s...understandable, he surmises to himself in a struggle as he examines the last carton of eggs for any defective products. That overachiever had always been like that since the very beginning of their friendship as she consistently bothered him with overused phrases such as, _“When I’m a chemical engineer, I’ll...”_ and “ _Maybe I’ll try for a Masters in Biochemical Engineering when I apply for grad school._ ” He complains – oh, he did – but ultimately, her drive had inspired him to emulate her hardworking habits in university.

(Jesus, he was unconsciously living through her and he wasn’t even aware until now.)  
   
So, he dismisses any lingering fears dwelling and shakes it off with a series of rabbity hops up and down aisle two. More than likely, she fell asleep at her desk with the luminescent UV bulb shining down brightly on her hood-covered head while drooling all over her notes. 

She’ll come by tomorrow with his second-to-last coffee. And maybe with one of 7-11's egg salad sandwiches too.

Hopefully.

Jung-Kook doesn’t know why, but the thought causes his heart to twinge into an uncomfortable knot. Why? He doesn’t know; all he knows is that it sounds incredibly depressing to the ear.  

The hour hand finally hits two, and the front entrance swings open to a blinding, toothy smile that hits Jung-Kook like the sun. There’s only one person on this Earth who radiated sunbeams that Jung-Kook would never tire of, and that very person was –

“Hey Jung-Kookie! It’s been a while!”

Ever-so-cheerful biology grad student, Jung Ho-Seok:  Sauntering in with the most avant-garde pair of black leather jeans, an oversized white t-shirt and a box of glazed donuts. He’s carrying a ratty plastic bag but still manages to make the grocery store aisle look like his own personal runway.

Jung-Kook hurries over towards the slouching man, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Ho-Seokkie- _hyung_! Boy, am I glad to see you! How have you been? It’s been so long since you last quit!”

“ _Aish_ , Kookie.” Ho-Seok extends a hand to ruffle Jung-Kook's wispy purplish-red locks, beaming. “You need to stop with the unconscious _aegyo._ Otherwise, I’ll abandon my pipettes and come crawlin’ back to ya!”

 _At least **someone** appreciates good stuff when they see it. _“Well,” Jung-Kook begins, jutting Ho-Seok in the ribs with his elbow. “You better not let your girlfriend hear you say that.”

Incredulous, Ho-Seok questions, “And how do you know that I’m officially dating now? Nevermind the fact that we didn’t release anything on Facebook or Instagram; we only started going steady about two weeks ago!”

“I’m a law student wannabe by day, and a skilled FBI agent by night.” Jung-Kook shoots him a lazy smirk. “What can I say? You’ve got good taste; she is _gorgeous_.”

“Jack-of-all-trades Jeon Jung-Kook. Why am I not surprised?”

“I want to meet her soon!”

“Sure!” Ho-Seok nods in agreement. “Anytime but now. I actually just dropped her off at a twenty-four-hour café near Seoul Station. She’s working on some group assignment that’s due at three o’clock tomorrow.” Noticing Jung-Kook's somewhat judgmental stare, Ho-Seok clarifies quickly, “It’s her group partners. Not her. She’s always on top of her shit.”

“Hey, I’m not judging!”

“You _so_ are. I worked with you for a year, y’know!” Just then, something tiny falls out of Ho-Seok's pocket, and Jung-Kook squats down to pick it up.

Eyeing the pastel-blue and rose-pink design on the USB drive skeptically, he hands it back to the older man, chuckling, “Totally missed the mark with the seasons, _hyung_. It’s not Easter.”

“No, dude, this is my girlfriend’s USB.” Ho-Seok groans. “She needs this for tomorrow, but I – “

Before he can continue, Jung-Kook holds out his hand to keep him from speaking. “Say no more. I’m actually heading out now,” He offers, waving at his frumpy-looking replacement standing idly behind them. “Where is she? Which café?”

* * *

 

In no time at all, Jung-Kook has his apron hung up and his backpack slung over his shoulder. While Ho-Seok and Nam-Joon reminisced over their ‘Golden Years’ (“Remember when you used to get hit on by that high schooler who looked just like Hong Seol from ‘Cheese in the Trap’?”), the youngest interrupts their heated conversation with a cough.

“I’m heading out now!”

“You don’t want a doughnut to take with you?” Ho-Seok gestures to the open box. “Nam-Joon's spare tire of a waistline is starting to grow!”

“Nah, I’m good. You guys enjoy.” He barely made it two steps out before whirling around to bid his ex-colleague good-bye. He shouldn’t play favourites, but he’s the only one that left before this whole JungRi spectacle happened. “Ho-Seokkie- _hyung_ , don’t be a stranger, okay? It’s nice to have you around!”

Ho-Seok smiles pleasantly. A little too pleasant for Jung-Kook's liking. “Oh, I’m sure it is,” He drawls, holding up another copy of that dratted leaflet Jung-Kook had torn to shreds hours earlier. “Just as nice as having these flyers to distribute.”

 _Spoke too soon_ , Jung-Kook thinks to himself, _spoke too soon_. “Oh, my God. _Hyung!_ ” But there’s no point in arguing anymore. If he doesn’t hurry, he’ll miss the hourly bus and will be forcibly stuck here under their wrathful torment. Shaking his head, he stomps off with his head in thunderclouds, mumbling, “Thank _fuck_ I’m leaving – “

“Language, Kookie!”

“Too late, Seok,” Nam-Joon consoles. “He’s already out and about.”

“Well, thanks for the enlightening conversation, Joon.” Seating himself on one of the plastic chairs, Ho-Seok rests his arms against his chest, posture lax. “I’ve got all night to spare. Lay it on me.”

“My humblest apologies, but corporate policy dictates that I can’t show you classified surveillance footage unless you work here, or are considered a public servant – ” He doesn’t even manage to finish his sentence when a dollar bill emblazoned with a green King Sejeong greets him.

“Ten thousand won for your deepest, darkest secrets on this JungRi. Now, **_spill_**!”

With the thumb-sized USB tossing around aimlessly in Jung-Kook's jacket pocket, he hurries toward the night bus beckoning him onboard with the dimly-lit fluorescent lighting. As he suspects, it’s deserted, which made it an ideal napping spot. _Gangnam_ was at least half an hour away – he only hopes that he won’t accidentally sleep past his stop.

* * *

 

Twenty miles away, Kim Ye-Rim lay awake, sprawled uncomfortably across the coffee table piled with textbooks, laptops and endless refills of coffee. Fortunately, the homey café was practically deserted aside from the night-shift barista who kept walking over to replenish their drinks, so Ye-Rim could slouch all over the countertops as much as she wanted.

Admittedly, there _have_ been times where she felt incredible exhaustion, but she never let it faze her. Instead, she had used it as a form of motivation – and she had an endless list of A+ papers to prove it.  

But strangely enough, there’s something weird about tonight. Tonight, there’s something resting on her shoulders heavily – maybe it’s the stress and the pressure of having to do while when the group essay was far from complete, but there’s a part of her that thinks otherwise.

It’s Friday, right? Well, technically Saturday morning. Nonetheless, she’s deviating away from her regularly scheduled coffee delivery. Ye-Rim doesn’t want to say it, but...goddamnit, she misses seeing her Kookpa’s face today. She wants to fall back to her normal routine of seeing his face light up whenever they met. She actually _wants_ to listen to his witty comebacks as they sniped at one another about everything and anything.    

She doesn’t want to be here. She really, really doesn’t.

As Ye-Rim stretches her back, a series of satisfying cracks echo through the café and Seung-Hwan spares a worried glance at her.

“Do you want the cushion?”

“No, no. Keep it.”  

Ye-Rim takes a glance at the clock sitting on the bottom-left corner of her screen. Only twelve hours left. Suck in a deep breath. Keep calm. Only another ten thousand words left for this group lab report.

No big deal.

Seung-Hwan's bundled up in a blanket near the fireplace, the whites of her eyes bright-red as she scrolls through the university library database for references. She shouldn’t be here, damnit. She should be holding hands with her new boyfriend, cuddling up next to him on her sofa while binging Netflix and feeding each other ice-cream. Not here. The fresh surge of guilt gnaws at Ye-Rim's insides painfully, and she says, “Do you want a muffin, _unni_?”

Seung-Hwan smiles at the younger girls’ generosity. “That’d be great. Thank-you.”

Sitting opposite to her was Lee Jeno, a timid, shy but brilliant first-year with eyes a little too bright and crackly lips that needed moisturizing, typing up a storm – only to stop and then heave a sigh.

Ye-Rim glances at the poor boy with pity. She knows all too well how that feels; she’s been that person before back in her first year of university too. The shared document word count increases by a considerable amount, but her spirits dampen ever so slightly when it decreases again. “Jeno- _yah_ , you had me excited for a moment there.” 

”I um, I’m really sorry, _noona_. I just don’t think my writing skills are in tip-top shape tonight.”

“We all could use a break,” Ye-Rim suggests, getting up from her seat. “Do you want another coffee?”

Jeno visibly flinches. “I’ve drunk enough coffee to last through my undergrad. I’ll pass.”

“Muffins? Bread loaves?”

“Um,” He glances at the glass display, drumming his fingertips together. And then shyly, “Maybe a banana bread slice.”

“Thanks for working hard, you two.” While buying their snacks wouldn’t solve their immediate problems, Ye-Rim surmises that it’s the very least that she can do for her fellow group members to express her gratitude. It’s not their fault that they were given the most difficult essay topic to write a fifteen-thousand-word group essay on. It’s not their fault that they were stuck with –

“You’re forgetting someone, aren’t you, Ye-Rim- _sshi_?”

It’s not their fault that they were stuck with that pompous, condescending, arrogant asshole, Lee Tae-Yong:  The entitled first-born son of a _chaebol,_ now in his fifth-year (And creeping towards his sixth) enrolled in the prestigious Biomedical Engineering program. Not by his own merit, no such thing – his mother and father had made a hefty donation to renovate the library, naming the fifth-floor wing after their son. And _that_ was already enough to strike a nerve for Ye-Rim. He’s strikingly handsome with a jawline as sharp as a steak knife, a flawless complexion and manipulative eyes that could shift between warmth and ice in a matter of seconds.

But Ye-Rim's the last person on this Earth to like someone just because they looked snazzy and suave. Right from the get-go when they were forcibly paired up together, she knew that he would not be her most favourite person in the world. And she knows he shares the same sentiments.

But fucking hell, she has never experienced such _hatred_ for a person before.  

It wasn’t just replying her e-mails with curt ‘ _K_ ’s, or making nasty remarks directed towards her on the rare occasion that he _did_ decide to show up to an unproductive meeting (Twice, to be precise), or deliberately sending Jeno Snapchats to show her that he was on _yet_ another excursion to some fancy-schmancy resort.

No, it was something far more terrible. Just a few days ago, Soo-Young was (Unfortunately) the waitress that would be servicing him and his group of equally shitty ‘friends’ at a rather trendy restaurant in the _Gangnam_ area. It started off on a wrong note already:  The sleazy bunch had personally selected her to tend to their table, cat-calling and whistling as she passed by with their drinks in an uncomfortably short black dress that accentuated her womanly curves. They saw it as a little flirtatious joke; Soo-Young didn’t see it as such.

But the worst of the night came within the last half-hour:  When Soo-Young had accidentally spilled several drops of red wine on Tae-Yong's dress shirt when she came around to clear the table. As her manager berated her in front of the jeering group – with Soo-Young bowing in apology until her back started to ache – Tae-Yong (The fucking scumbag) had the nerve to _touch_ her. At first, it was a sly hand that grazed the curvature to her waist, sending chilling goosebumps up and down her arm. Then, it was a yank that sent her tumbling to the lush carpeted ground. 

What left his mouth soon after made Ye-Rim want to vomit after listening to Soo-Young's tearful confession.

_“Oh, let her whore herself out with her breasts hanging in my face. Just one amongst the many in my harem. Good-for-nothing sluts, all of them.”_

Now, she wasn’t fully aware of what Lee Tae-Yong's father did for a living, but she’s heard the rumours being whispered and shared within their lecture hall. Apparently, he was some big-shot board member for Samsung – or was it LG? It doesn’t really matter, though. What does is that he got away with something that _should’ve_ ripped him to shreds. Not only did he inappropriately assault her, but the verbal slurs he had used on her – how someone could turn out so heartless baffled Ye-Rim's mind.

Yet here he is, flaunting around like some big-shot and taking pride in his heinous actions.

She shuts her eyes for a moment before narrowing her gaze wickedly towards the said man, who was snapping his gum loudly with his tongue while his feet rested on the table. It still baffles her:  Why was he here? Of all the times that he could’ve shown up – it's as if he wanted to rub it in their faces that he’ll still pass the course with a C minus, even if he didn’t hand this in. Nothing a little sponsorship money couldn’t fix.

 _Just like how he had fixed things up at the restaurant that night._  

“Oh, I am so sorry, Tae-Yong- _sshi_.” There’s no mistaking the harsh sarcasm coating her words. “Did you not receive the memo? I’m only buying for the people who’ve contributed to the project. I’m not wasting my money on someone who hasn’t bothered to show up to any of our meetings until the very last day.”

The older man’s breath hitches and he stands up, cracking his knuckles. It’s only then did Ye-Rim realize how much he towered over her, but she clenches her hands tightly, grinding her nails into her palm. She’s infamous for being recklessly brave and never afraid to confront others for their stupidity. Why should she cower in front of some spoiled, rich kid? 

“Say it again. I _dare_ you.”

“I’ll say whatever I want to say.”    

“Oh, Tae-Yong- _hyung_!” Jeno suddenly intrudes, bursting out of his seat to ease Tae-Yong's growing rage. “Ah, _noona_ , here.” Pulling out his wallet from his jacket, he tosses it to Ye-Rim and says, “I’ll give you some money!”

The subliminal message concealed in his frantic eyes says everything:  _Don’t push it, noona._

She doesn’t try to hide the disappointment when she looks at him squarely. How can he just _cave_ like that? She knew that the boy was somewhat spineless, but she feels – betrayed. Even worse:  Seung-Hwan only averted her gaze in shame when Ye-Rim whirled around as if she wanted no part in their squabble. It makes the younger girl feel a hundred times worse – like she was just doused in a bucket of ice-cold water.

Why is it always those in power that inevitably got their way without suffering any ramifications of their actions? Why is _she_ suddenly the antagonist, when all she’s doing is standing up for injustices like this?  

The tension immediately subsides when Ye-Rim turns away towards the counter, but her ears perk up when she hears Tae-Yong murmur snidely, “What a bitch.”

Ye-Rim tries her hardest not to let his verbal insults get to her, but when she reaches the barista, she can’t help but let a few tears escape the corners of her eyes. The young woman standing opposite of her peers at her with concern and worry, preparing to open her mouth to console Ye-Rim.

The blonde only presses a finger against her lips and shakes her head with the slightest of movements to not make it obvious. As the barista prepares her order wordlessly, Ye-Rim sinks against the table weakly to keep her knees from buckling.

Strong-willed as Ye-Rim is, she too has her breaking point. Try as she might, she can’t keep up this nonchalant, brazen façade any longer. She can’t continue pretending that nothing’s wrong. She’s tired. She’s so, _so_ tired.

 _“C’mon, Rim,”_ A recognizable voice suddenly says in the background. Wait, what the heck? Is he here? She whirls around, surveying the area for any sign of Jung-Kook. She knows he wouldn’t be here, but there’s a part of her hoping that he was.

 _“You can do so much better than that.”_ He continues. _“You’re not giving up already, are you?”_

Giving up? She doesn’t stand a chance – not with Jeno and Seung-Hwan looking like they want to concede defeat and give in to every single one of Tae-Yong's demands.

_“The Rim I know would never think of backing down when faced with a problem. She’ll fight for what she believes in. She’ll fight until the very end, especially for your beloved Soo-Young noona, no less.”_

But what if –

_“Ye-Rim, with wavering convictions?” He scoffs. “Inconceivable. You’re doing the right thing, Rim. You really are. And if I ever catch you having doubts about yourself, I will force you on the Sling-Shot and watch you projectile vomit into the air.”_

“Here’s your order!” When Ye-Rim glances at her hot chocolate, she notices a cheerful smiley face drawn on the side. The silent barista nods encouragingly at her. “Don’t be discouraged!” She mouths with a peppy grin on her face.  

For a moment, Ye-Rim remains silent – but then the thin line uplifts into a genuine smile as she nods back.

 _“Atta girl.”_ The proud approval in his voice is clear and evident, and while she knows that Jung-Kook's mental pep talk was just a figment of her imagination, she secretly wishes that telepathy were real. Then, she could send him a thank-you in return when she needed his encouragement the most. Jung-Kook had always harbored respect for that aspect of her personality the most, and throughout their high school stint, there were many, many occasions where she came to defend the defenseless against tormenting bullies and the like.

It's been a long while since then, but had he actually been here to witness her sudden slump, he would've physically knocked some common sense back into her, telling her how pathetic she looked to concede defeat to a _chaebol_ , no less. There were many things they disagreed upon, but fighting against ruthless tyrants to protect the weak was something they always believed in. "I've got your back" is what he would say, and here in the coffeehouse, she can hear him say it again.

 _"I've got your back, Rim. Don't be scared."_   

(She knows he can't hear her whispered thanks, but let her believe in fairytales for the time being. She'll definitely express her gratitude to him in person another time.)

Ye-Rim returns to the table with her arms full, handing out their orders before settling comfortably back onto the chair. Nine thousand words left:  Slow progress, but progress nonetheless. 

“Tae-Yong- _sshi_ ,” Seung-Hwan calls out suddenly. Tae-Yong looks up lazily from his phone, and then sends the younger girl a piercing glare when he doesn’t see his cinnamon bun. “I hate to be a bother, but did you manage to – “

“Nope,” The said man says airily, tossing his iPhone X (Already scratched and dented) onto the table in a flamboyant, almost carefree manner. “Didn’t bother, can’t seem to find the willpower to care.”

“Tae-Yong- _sshi_ ,” Ye-Rim begins, gritting her teeth together.

“What? You’ve got more things to say, you insufferable cu – “

Exhaling a shaky breath, she feels her entire body tremble as she continues with a stony grimace on her face, “Mind your _fucking_ attitude.”

Nothing but dead silence.

Jeno’s mouth falls open in surprise into an awkward gape and Seung-Hwan’s standing with a protective arm wrapped around Ye-Rim’s waist. On one hand, he does have to give credit where it’s due. He’s never met anybody like Ye-Rim before, but she’s such a refreshing breath of fresh air amongst the slew of beautiful model-like girls that flung themselves at Tae-Yong. 

But on the other hand…just looking at Tae-Yong already sends an uncomfortable chill up and down his spine. He’s thin and slight but decked out in vibrant tattoos crisscrossing up and down his arms. He’s probably hiding something on his back, too, and that thought terrifies him to the very core. If anything, Tae-Yong could be a part of the mafia or a gang, for crying out loud! Unless Ye-Rim was looking to be murdered tomorrow, being fearless really wasn’t the ideal solution here.  “Rim- _noona_ – “

“No, Jeno.” The curtness cutting through the air forces him to swallow his words. “I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of calling women with such derogatory terms. I’m not going to stand for it; neither should you.”  

“Oho, the gloves come off and the talons come out, hmm?” Her eyes flash in alarm as Tae-Yong sidles towards her. Too close for comfort, but he hasn’t laid a hand on her. Yet. “Listen, you little punk-ass bitch,” He hisses. “Do I look like I give a shit?”

He might not dare touch her, but she does. “Is ‘bitch’ the best that you can do?” Scoffing, she jabs a finger at him threateningly. “Goodness gracious, I actually thought you _chaebol_ heirs would’ve had a wider range of vocabulary to use, but I guess you can’t even insult someone without swearing, can you? Lee Tae-Yong, I’ve just had it with you. You and your money-grubbing ass should just go to hell altogether.”

“Did you just – “

Seung-Hwan's grip on her body tightens, but Ye-Rim pulls away. “You didn’t make it into the program through your own hard work.”

“What the **_fuck_** did you just say?!”

“Hashtag:  Everybody knows. How does it feel for the Tae-Yong wing to become infamously known as a great spot for quickies?” The late-night barista has her hands wrapped around the phone receiver, ready to dial 1-1-9 at any moment. “Never have I ever met anybody as entitled as you, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re spoiled rotten to the core. You prance around in the most expensive cars. You wear the trendiest fashions, have girls begging for your attention and fools dying for your respect – but guess what?” 

Her eyes narrow into a threatening glare as she hisses, forcing him to collapse into the lounge chair behind him, “You never earned it. That’s _all_ nothing. Your ass is sitting on a multibillion-dollar empire that your parents cultivated for you and all the sweet cash you’ll be inheriting – and that’s exactly how the rest of your life will play out:  Incredibly lonely. It’s not your materialistic goods that you showcase that proves your worth; it’s your attitude and your morals that does. Clearly, the only traits you have are being lazy, callous, rude, vile and cruel. How _dare_ you prance in here without giving a flying fuck while Jeno and Seung-Hwan _unni_ are slaving away at the parts you were supposed to contribute. Nevermind the fucking assignment; you insulted, mocked and degraded Soo-Young _unni_ for accidentally spilling red wine on your dress shirt.”

Tae-Yong's complexion turns a ghastly white. Shell-shocked, Seung-Hwan shrieks, “What?!”

“She only told me. She couldn’t tell the others. Congratulations, Tae-Yong. You’ve forced her to quit her only job that paid for her schooling because she doesn’t want to face any more customers like you. Does it give you a fucking high to hurt people like this? Because if you do, I have no other words for you other than you don’t deserve any of our respect.” Shoving him gruffly, she snarls, “Get the fuck out of our sights.”

She hit him right where it hurts, and it shows. “ _Yah,”_ Tae-Yong suddenly makes a grasp for Ye-Rim's collar, yanking it up in a threatening manner. Behind her, she can hear Seung-Hwan hyperventilating, whispering over and over, _“Rim. Oh God, no, please don’t.”_

“You’re really itching for a good beating, aren’t you? Just like your damn friend, thinking she’s all that. Thinking that she’s so drop-dead gorgeous and that I’d want to fu – ”

Ye-Rim deadpans, “Violence is never the appropriate answer, but in this case, I’m equally willing to give that surgically-enhanced jawline a good smash myself if you say anything else about Soo-Young _unni_. I’m warning you now:  Shut your damn mouth.”

Harsh noise invades her ears piercingly from all directions when she watches Tae-Yong's arm rise in preparation for a powerful slap to her cheek. Jeno lunges towards the older man in desperation, gripping onto his wrist, but Tae-Yong knocks him back.

“ _Noona_!”

“Ye-Rimmie, no!” It’s Seung-Hwan, fighting back the tears threatening to stream down her face.

“Oh, God!”

Ye-Rim's jaw tightens together as she braces herself against the overpowering impact.

But it never comes. Her chin is still intact; her cheek isn’t aching; her teeth are still together. Is this all just one gigantic nightmare?

“Rim, how many times must I tell you in order to get it ingrained in your brain? I’m the only one who has the right to bully you. Got it?”

She ignores the high-pitched shrieking and the boisterous yelling. Ye-Rim’s eyes slowly flutter open, and she gasps at the stranger standing mere centimetres away from her. No. It's not a stranger:  The broad, muscular back. The Timberlands. The piercings glinting in the muted lighting. He’s _there_ – it's not her imagination playing cruel tricks on her.

Jeon Jung-Kook has a hand wrapped around Tae-Yong’s wrist to block his feeble attempt of a slap directed for her cheek, and while he has a pleasant demeanor arranged on his handsome face, she can sense the outrage seething off his body.  

While a dozen questions whir through her mind like a tornado, Ye-Rim manages out a meek whisper.

“Got it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, that was a very heavy author's note at the beginning there. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed!


	7. Kook.

There weren’t many things that truly angered Jeon Jung-Kook. Granted, he is hot-headed and easily riled up (As exemplified by his past few encounters involving another equally stubborn and offensive fireball), but typically speaking, Jung-Kook manages to maintain a clear head even when under pressure:  A fortunate gift that will assist him greatly during his law school ventures.

But when it came to certain things, Jung-Kook would never hesitate to get involved. Protests against political corruption? Oh, definitely yes. Inequalities in public health? Even more so. Tyranny from menacing _chaebol_ sons and daughters who thought that the skies were limitless?

It strikes a vessel _hard,_ and Jung-Kook would have absolutely no qualms in getting confrontational, even if it meant risking the goody-two-shoes reputation that he had masterfully designed for himself. But it’s easy why that is:  It was how Jung-Kook and Ye-Rim had first met.

* * *

 

**_Spring_ **

_“Yah. Kim Soo-Hyun.”_

_That girl. She’s stunningly attractive for seventeen. Large eyes accentuated with the slightest eyeliner, mascara and false lashes applied precariously and a well-toned figure reminiscent of an hour-glass. Teachers were floored by her seemingly demure demeanor, and girls and boys alike fawned over the path that she walked._

_Well, all, except for one._

_“How many times do I have to say it?” He wasn't particularly handsome if his classmates were being frank. A little plain, typical with horn-rimmed glasses a tad too big for his face. But something about him – that little something – had her enraptured. And being the well-off daughter of a pharmaceutical R &D firm, she was often used to getting whatever she wanted, delivered on a silver platter._

_And most definitely, she was not the type to accept rejection so simply._

_“I’m not interested. I don’t like you. Never have, never will,” He stated, adjusting his spectacles before turning back to his heavy textbook. “Take a leaf out of Soo-Hyun's book, why don’t you?”_

_And so, that’s exactly what she did. Kim Soo-Hyun – a kind-hearted soul with an equally kind-looking face, the type to never wear her skirts an inch over the knee – had to pay the price, coming in the form of all heinous acts imaginable:  Hair yanking until the scalp bled for mercy, irritating ash from burnt cigarette butts sprinkled into the eyes, rude jabs at her appearance in the hallways –_

_And a harsh shove down a two-foot staircase._

_“What makes you so god-damn special that he would reject me for the likes of you?” She questioned one day after school. In the absence of classmates and teachers alike, digging the heel of her shoe against Soo-Hyun's backpack._

_“W-we,” Soo-Hyun sniffed, dabbing quickly at her eyes to keep the tears at bay. God, she can’t defend herself for shit. “Didn’t do anything!”_

_“That’s bullshit, and we all know it,” An accompanying friend snorted. “Probably that pig-like snout for a nose.”_

_“Listen here, Kim Soo-Hyun. I’m generally a nice person but test my patience, and you’re in for a hellish high school experience. I’ll make sure of it, and you’ll be sorry.”_

_“If you proclaim yourself to be a nice person, you wouldn’t be doing crap like this now, would you?” A voice interrupts. Emerging from the corner of the building, an infuriated Kim Ye-Rim stalks over to the group. That girl, God – she's petite, but that doesn’t mean anything. Her size belied the fury radiating through her eyes. She wrapped a hand around the humiliated girls’ shoulder, helping her get to her feet. But Soo-Hyun's face – it’s flush with embarrassment and shame._

_“Who are you?”_

_“I’m her friend,” Ye-Rim stated bluntly. “Hasn’t middle school taught you anything? Bullying isn’t cool.”_

_“Agreed.”_

_She twisted her head to the side, gazing skeptically at the familiar glasses-clad senior she’s seen walking through the hallways. When did he get there?! He was the homeroom teachers’ pet, wasn’t he? Never stepped a toe out of line. Not one to stick his nose into people’s businesses..._

_Well, at least that’s what she originally thought. “Wait, who are you?”_

_“Not the time for introductions, but,” And at that, he flashed her an encouraging smile. “Jeon Jung-Kook.”_

_“I uh – “ Momentarily lost for words, she managed to stumble out, “K-Kim Ye-Rim.”_

* * *

 

Things seemingly haven’t changed much since. Well, other than the fact that Rim has significantly mellowed down – but let it be known she’s still much more physical than he would be. As for him, fists were never necessary. Just his iron-sharp tongue would suffice to knock down his opponents by several pegs.

Like now, for instance. And he has no qualms on using it against the one who threatened Ye-rim.

Because no one. Absolutely no person on this fucking world was allowed to bully her.

Regardless of whatever she would say about it later (The typical ‘ _I can handle it myself_ ’ because that’s just how she is), Jung-Kook couldn't give less than two shits.

After all, it’s _Ye-Rim_. Her safety is jeopardized. What else mattered?

Despite the forceful, polite smile he has gracing his lips, Jung-Kook's eyes spoke otherwise:  A hostile glint is evident through his glare, wild and menacing. “A bit of advice for the poor, hare-brained soul here:  Try respecting women, and you might actually get somewhere with your life instead of just sitting atop your despicable empire made from exploiting child workers.”

Somewhere behind him, Ye-Rim's mouth opens and an audible gasp of surprise escapes her throat. The other young woman – Seung-Hwan, was it? Ho-Seok's girlfriend? – shifts her gaze between the two of them curiously, eyes widening in surprise as Ye-Rim‘s fingers reach out slowly, pulling gently on his sweater to bring him towards her.

Seung-Hwan knows full well it’s not the right time to be swooning over such trivial things, but even she can’t help but let out a weak smile at the scene unfolding before her very eyes. Ye-Rim can feistily declare that she loathes his guts as many times as she wants, but when it comes down to it, her actions (Unconscious or not) betrays everything.

She still cares about him, and obviously, he does, too.

“You’ve got back-up, huh? Not that I expected much from a prissy weakling like you,” The willowy man suddenly retorts, jerking his arm back. And it’s only then does Jung-Kook realize:  _Shit, he’s actually much taller than I thought._ He, himself, stood at a good five-seven, but this asshole practically lumbered over him with his lean stature. 

Jung-Kook recoils for a split second when Tae-Yong jabs a finger against his chest. The recognizable hints of black and navy-blue ink etched onto his wrist sends the younger man’s internal alarm bell ringing furiously, but he swallows his growing fears and puts his best poker face on display. The irate Tae-Yong then grabs his collar with one hand, his index finger on the other hovering dangerously close to his twitching eye.

“You seem like you’re smart, so I’ll just say it once,” Tae-Yong growls. “Don’t go fighting for the wrong sort of people.” 

Jung-Kook wrenches Tae-Yong's hands off his sweater as he quips back, “I think I can tell the wrong sort by myself, thank-you very much.”

Tae-Yong's clearly insulted. His jaw throbs, almost in a rhythmically tense pace. And Ye-Rim's lungs are gasping desperately for air. “Is your head screwed on properly?”

“Oh, I assure you, my IQ and EQ are good indicators of proper mental functioning. But that’s not what we’re talking about right now. Here’s a suggestion for you. Try not to conduct yourself inappropriately in a public space. It won’t look good on your record, no matter how high up on the _chaebol_ hierarchy you may be.” Pausing, he gestures to the silent spectators sitting before them. “Including myself, there were six witnesses that watched you nearly lose your temper and hit an innocent woman.”

“Innocent?” Tae-Yong shakes his head in disbelief. “Don’t kid yourself. This demonic bitch is far from it.”

“Denial is never pretty, Tae-Yong- _sshi_ ,” Jung-Kook states, his words incredibly sharp and jarring to the ear. Even Ye-Rim is questioning, is this really her light-hearted and friendly Kookpa? “From what I understand, you’ve hurt someone very dear to Rim for a simple mistake that anybody can commit. Learn some empathy and sympathize for the working class.”

“Working class, my ass.”

“Oh, yes, my apologies.” But as usual, his voice concealed no such thing:  No remorse, no regret. “I forget that you’re incapable of doing work.  How dull must your life be that you have to throw childish fits over food? Well,” A crooked, almost pretentious smirk is displayed. “I guess it’s a _chaebol_ custom, isn’t it?” 

And all at once, the smug grimace is wiped from Jung-Kook's face when a heavy blow in the form of Tae-Yong's clenched fist hits him squarely in the jaw. The forceful impact throws the younger man off balance, and he staggers back into the table, knocking cups of lukewarm tea and coffees onto the ground with an ear-splitting shatter.

“Kookpa!”

“Someone, call the police! **_Now_**!” It’s Seung-Hwan. At least, Jung-Kook _thinks_ it’s Seung-Hwan. But he shakes his head furiously, ordering, “No, don’t!”

It doesn’t stop there. Lee Tae-Yong's out for the kill, and Jung-Kook isn’t swift enough to dodge his attacks. “Rim,” He splutters, shielding his face with his forearms tucked close to his head as Tae-Yong lunges towards him, barring his teeth whilst delivering blow after blow. “G-get back. Don’t come any closer!”

“I’m not just going to sit back and watch you get beat up!” Ye-Rim's sneakers shuffle squeakily against the polished floor. Jung-Kook's eyes widen in horror as she stupidly, _idiotically_ – practically every synonym imaginable – throws herself between them. Tae-Yong immediately halts his tracks altogether, his fist barely grazing the tip of her nose. “K-Kookpa, y-you're – “ She brushes her thumb against the side of his jaw as she whispers, “Bleeding!”

“Huh?!”

Glancing down at the floor dizzily, Jung-Kook watches as tiny droplets of red drips down his chin and onto the wooden floorboards. It’s not much, fortunately, but fucking hell. Lee Tae-Yong –

Jung-Kook loathes himself to admit this, but he’s definitely not someone to trifle with. And definitely, a force to be reckoned with.

“Bastard,” Tae-Yong spits out, blowing on his knuckles. While Jung-Kook doesn’t want Ye-Rim to get involved in their scuffle, her interference was – dare he be frank – much needed. Tae-Yong wouldn’t dare lay a finger on her, especially now knowing that she had someone to step in and defend her. “You’re damn pathetic if you can’t even handle such a measly punch. Looks like you’re all talk, no show.” Turning his attention back to Ye-Rim, he adds ominously, “You fall for the wretched, deplorable types, huh? Just like that slut.”

“That’s enough!” Ye-Rim shrieks. Her petite frame has her arms spread open in a protective stance to shield Jung-Kook from further harm, but he can see it clearly: Her entire body is trembling in fear. That false bravery she’s projecting through her stance can crumble at any second.

Yet, she’s not waning. Standing as firmly as she can, she screams, “Stop dragging innocent people into this! He did nothing to warrant a punch in the face! You only have a problem with me, so take it out on me! Not him!” _Never him._ Ye-Rim thinks to herself with hot tears welling in the corners of her eyes. _Never, ever him._

“Rim.” With a scowl on his face, Jung-Kook wipes up the trail of blood with the back of his hand and murmurs, “You don’t need to do this.”

“Just listen to me for once, Kookpa.” She has her back turned towards him, but her cry comes out as a desperate plea. And it pierces through his insides torturously, as if a dozen knives were stabbing at him all at once. “I don't need you to get hurt for my sake. Please. _Please_. I’m begging you. Don’t aggravate him any longer.”

“Kookpa?!” Tae-Yong snorts with a derisive scoff. “How romantic of you to have pet names for one another. You make me sick.”

“Better this than living a shitty life like yours, isn’t it?” Jung-Kook cuts in abruptly before Ye-Rim could interject, brushing her body aside. He’s not sure what compels him to do this – it's unthinkable, really – but he does. His clenched hand bashes into Tae-Yong's nose, throwing the older man into a state of surprise. The seething anger that was just barely ebbing away within Tae-Yong is reignited once more with the younger man’s scornful quip. That fire in his eyes. It shows no trace of warmth, only venomous malice.

It’s horrifying.

Even more so was the very moment when Tae-Yong, blinded from Jung-Kook's strike, wildly grasps for a lone knife, lying on the counter. “Damn brat. I’ll make sure you never see the light of day for crossing with me.”

“He’s got a knife!” Seung-Hwan's frantic as she pulls a frozen, pale-faced Jeno to the side with a hard jerk. “Guys! Guys, we can’t - we can’t fight him like this! Run!”

Only, Jung-Kook doesn’t.

Warm, sweaty arms instantly encase around Ye-Rim's frame in a protective hold. Both their hearts thrum madly against their ribcages in nervous palpitation. They’re both not the types to be easily intimidated, but...the way that Tae-Yong's footsteps were echoing in that café:  His sleek leather oxfords clacking against the floor, thunderously loud.

Every step is filled with murderous intent.  He’s going to stab him, isn’t he?! She catches the glint of the knife underneath the dim lighting – bloodthirsty and deadly – and she can only imagine how it’ll be within seconds.

Covered in a shiny sheen of red. Jung-Kook collapsing in her arms. Jung-Kook – dead?

 _No. No._ This can’t happen!

“ _OPPA_ , NO! **_DON’T_**!”

Except, it never comes.

“I-it’s okay, _noona_! H-he's down!”

Never did Jung-Kook expect the shy, soft-spoken youngster to be their saviour, but he presumes that the old saying, ‘never judge a book by its cover’ applies wholeheartedly in this case. 

Lee Jeno. Timid, frightened Lee Jeno has a hardcover textbook in his hands, holding it high in the air with trembling arms. Tae-Yong, groaning in agony, falls to his knees. Then, he slumps over onto the ground, face first. Seung-Hwan daringly scoots over, prodding the knocked-out man’s side with her shoe.

“I, I’m so sorry!” Jeno squeaks out apologetically after having realized what he had just done.

“Don’t be,” Jung-Kook says, nodding appreciatively as he loosens his hold around Ye-Rim. “You literally saved us.”

“Jung-Kook _oppa_.”

When he turns his attention back to the young woman calling out his name, a rush of emotions overwhelms him.  He’s annoyed, no, that’s not right. He’s infuriated. Why the hell did she stupidly decide to risk her life for him by throwing herself in between their physical altercation? But the anger quickly subsides into relief when he looks into her eyes.

He can see deep in hers, and she him. 

“You’re okay, right?” He asks slowly.

“F-fine. I just – “

“Let’s get out of here.”

Swiftly, Jung-Kook's fingers interlace between Ye-Rim's in a strong, vice-like grip. So tight, to the point that his own hands are chalk-white, she realizes in shock. But she’s still too stunned to move – the bottom half of her legs frozen and threatening to buckle under her weight, her lower lip trembling.

“Wh-what are we going to do about him?!” She finally chokes out.

“ _N-noona_ , if anything, he never saw it coming. He was already dazed enough as is from that upper-cut,” Jeno replies. “Great job, _hyung_!”

Jung-Kook's expression turns slightly awkward as he helps Ye-Rim throw her battered laptop and books into her bag. Heaving it over his shoulder, he mumbles, “I uh, I don’t really want to be applauded for violence, but um, thanks, I guess.” Gazing at the table, he orders mutedly, “The important thing is:  Let’s get going. We’re not going to stay.”

“Y-you don’t need to tell me twice!” Seung-Hwan says, following suit by frantically gathering all of her materials. Jeno, on the other hand, fiddles with his fingers in apprehension, clearly at a loss for what to do.

“A-although,” He stutters uncertainly. “I-is it okay to actually _leave_ him here like this?” He reluctantly squats down to Tae-Yong's side, placing his hand over his mouth. “I, oh God. I-I've never, _ever_ hit anybody before! M-my mom’s going to murder me!”

“It was self-defense, Jeno- _yah_ ,” Jung-Kook says. “You did it out of self-defense. We were all here as witnesses to his violent behaviour. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy. Although...” His voice trails off at the remaining evidence of their scuffle from minutes before. God. Fist fights were so much messier than he thought:  Murky liquid pools underneath their feet, with shattered pieces of glass littering their workspace. “I am – **_so_** sorry for this.” 

“I’m the manager for a reason,” The barista chirps calmly, emerging from behind the counter with a broom in one hand, a mop in the other. “It’s alright. I’ll get it resolved, and I’ll take care of him. I can promise you that I won't call the police. You guys should go.”

“You have our sincerest thanks.”

With that, the foursome exits the café without any more words exchanged.

And all the while, Jung-Kook and Ye-Rim never let go of each other's hands.

* * *

 

At four o’clock in the morning, there weren’t many places that they could go to seek out refuge. So, when Seung-Hwan meekly poses the question after ten minutes of standing in the early morning chill, Jung-Kook could only think of one place that he knew best.

“Although,” He begins slowly, running a hand through his hair at the deserted bus stop. “Wouldn’t it be a better option to just go home?”

“Well, we would,” Jeno explains, itching his left eye. The poor kid looks so exhausted. First-years shouldn’t have to pull all-nighters like this. “But um, despite what just happened, we still have our assignment due in eleven hours.”

“Jeno, I really don’t think your professor would care about a lab report when you have a group member who was screaming bloody murder. You can just explain it to them, can’t you?”

“At the same time,” Ye-Rim chimes in. “He is also the type to not care whether Tae-Yong threatened to bash my cheekbones in. Tae-Yong's the professor’s pet, especially with the hefty donations that his parents have been providing to keep our 4D lab fabulous.” Rolling her eyes, she adds under her breath, “A million dollars in exchange for his degree. What a world we live in.”

“Alrighty, then. Clamber aboard,” Jung-Kook says as the bus finally drives up to the sidewalk. Jeno and Seung-Hwan climb into their seats, with Jung-Kook and Ye-Rim following suit in the seats behind them.

“How long until we get there?”

“About thirty minutes. Twenty-five, especially at a time like this with no traffic.”

Eventually, the gentle steering by the aging bus driver lulls Jeno and Seung-Hwan into a dreamless sleep. Ye-Rim, however, is still wide awake. Her expression is stony as she stares out the passing scenery of closed shopfronts and the lit windows of apartment flats before them.

“Are you okay?” Jung-Kook questions softly. At first, she remains silent – and that leaves him terrified. Is she upset about something? Angry? Disappointed that he would get embroiled in a fist fight like that?

And then, at last, she sighs. “We, I – let's just talk when we get there, okay?”

 _Let’s talk._ It’s discomforting to hear, honestly – and that discomfort persists for the remainder of the trip when Ye-Rim pulls her hand out of Jung-Kook's. He knows it’s a little dramatic, but it feels – hollow. Empty, in a way. And it’s not just the physical aspect of it, either:  He’s gotten too accustomed to her warmth. It simply doesn‘t feel right. 

Once the bus reaches their stop, they all climb out with their bags and books in tow. Jung-Kook's replacement from earlier halts mid bow with a perplexed expression written all over his face. “W-wait, Jung-Kookie- _hyung_? What are you doing here? And – what in God’s name happened to your face?! Did you get _punched_?!”

“Not the time right now,” Jung-Kook replies. “Is Joonie- _hyung_ still here?”

“Backroom.”

“Thanks.”

It wasn’t just Nam-Joon. As it turns out, Ho-Seok was _still_ there, seated to the side and assisting with some of the paperwork when Seung-Hwan calls out to him. He abandons the pen and paper at once, running towards her with concern.

“Seung-Hwan- _ah?_ Why are you here? And,” He turns his head and gives Jung-Kook a once over, doing a double-take at the throbbing purplish bruise sticking out like a sore thumb on the side of his face. “Kook- _ah_ , don’t tell me. You got into a fight at the café?!”

“S-something like that.”

Nam-Joon's eyes shift between Jung-Kook and Ye-Rim, noting the wide gap between them in alarm. Wasting no time, he throws a first aid kit at the younger girls’ arms. Something must’ve gone down and must’ve involved her, too. But was this over petty jealousy, like how Jung-Kook had grown envious over Ye-Rim and Yoongi’s impromptu flirting? Or something far worse that prompted Jung-Kook to do the unthinkable? Whatever it is, he doesn’t have time to worry about – they'll have to work it out on their own.

“ _Yah_ , Rim, catch!”

“What the – !” Ye-Rim shoots him a knowing glare, but Nam-Joon only gestures toward Jung-Kook, standing beside Ho-Seok and Seung-Hwan awkwardly as they exchanged a comforting hug with one another.

“Help him get cleaned up,” He instructs authoritatively. “You can use my office.”

“...Fine.”

Nam-Joon watches as their backsides retreat to the tiny room tucked away in the corner. He might not be able to offer any assistance or advice, but at the very least, they deserved some privacy to resolve whatever it was that had them behaving so oddly.

* * *

 

The door clicks shut behind Ye-Rim, and right away, Jung-Kook feels his heart falling out of his chest as a subdued silence falls between them. “Rim- _ah_ ,” He begins. “A-are you sure you’re okay? What’s wrong?” He dares a step towards her and reaches his hand out to comfort her, but she exchanges a steel-tinted glare with his bewildered irises. He stops his tracks altogether.

“Jung-Kook _oppa_. Oh, my God. I don’t even know how to begin. There are – “ She exhales a shaky breath, shutting her eyes briefly before opening them again. “So many things I need to reprimand you for.”

“Rim, why are you – “

“Shut your _damn_ mouth!”

Her shout renders him speechless and unable to react. He’s confused, to say the least. What is he even supposed to say under this circumstance? Is he supposed to apologize? And even if she was owed a sorry, what was he supposed to be sorry _for_?!

“Oh, so _now_ you’re yelling at me?” Jung-Kook spits out with the same level of ferocity. He doesn’t mean to bite back at her, but it spills out of his throat accidentally. “Look, Rim. Can you at least tell me what I did wrong?!”

“ _Oppa_ , why?! Why did you do that just now? Back there, in the café?” She questions, stepping towards him with her hands balled together into tight fists as she pounds against his chest. “Why’d you throw that punch at him?! You’re so _stupid_!” 

“Stupid?! You’re calling _me_ the stupid one?!”

“You saw how he is!” Ye-Rim snaps back, her breaths heavyhearted. “I – I didn’t want to get you involved! What if you got hurt? Even worse, what if you got _stabbed_?! How would I feel, knowing that you – an innocent bystander – got in the way when it had nothing to do with you?!”

“How can you even say such a thing? How could _I_ not get involved? This is you we’re talking about!” _You._ He thinks to himself. _You, being the only person in this world that I would ever hit somebody for. The one that I will always protect, no matter what._  

“My problems are not your problems!” Ye-Rim bellows, but once the words leave her mouth, she’s hit with an instant wave of regret, chilling her to the very core. This time, she can’t blame the weather for the glacial coldness that penetrates deep into her bones. No, not at all. Rather, it’s from the way that Jung-Kook's eyes were locked onto hers with undeniable hurt swimming through his normally warm and friendly eyes. “Stop trying to play hero!” 

That’s all she got out of this?! “What do you mean, it’s not my problem?!” Jung-Kook screams back. And just like her, he deplores the way he spoke when Ye-Rim's face visibly flinches. “I, _God_.” Pressing a hand against his forehead, he says in a muffled murmur, “Rim, I – I. How can you even insinuate that I’m doing this just to make myself look good in front of your eyes?! Don’t you get it?! Even after all this time, I still _care_ about you. I can’t bear to see you get hurt. And even if helping you endangers me at the same time, I _don’t care_. It may have just been a slap in the face to you, but to me, it’s much more than just a red mark imprinted into your cheek, Rim. It’s much worse than that.”

There were more things that he wanted to say. Many, many more things, but there’s a part of him that doesn’t let him. So instead, he swallows his words and averts his gaze towards the dust-covered floor. He doesn’t dare look at her. Because he’s certain if he did, she would’ve burst into tears right then and there.

Five seconds of stilted silence. And then, she opens her mouth. “Kookpa. Please. Look at me.”

He does. Reluctantly at first, but once he does, he feels her body collide into his in a bone-crushing embrace. Her head is nuzzled against his chest. God forbid she hears how hard his heart was hammering from within. He was expecting all sorts of things:  Slaps to the face or the arm, more shouting – anything but an initiated hug from her end.

“Wh-what,” Jung-Kook stammers, his arms laying limp against his sides. It’s as if he suddenly doesn’t know what to do. “What are you doing?”

“D-don’t say anything. I just – “ Her hold on him tightens, and almost immediately, he feels the cascade of tears sliding down her face and into his sweater. “I just – “ She chokes back a strangled cough and then laughs, void of emotion. “I’m so pathetic, aren’t I? I try to be courageous and brave to stand up against injustices like this, but at the end of the day, I’m still some damsel in distress that needs saving. And even worse, you had to come to fend for me. You were so close to getting injured, but you – you only worry about my well-being instead. And I'm crying. I’m crying _in front of you_. All self-control lost.”

_You aren’t the only one, Rim. Say it. Tell her that!_

But in place, he mumbles, “No. You’re not. You did well.” Ruffling her hair comfortingly, he continues, “It’s okay to be upset over something like that. You’re not being weak. I know that for sure.”

“Don’t try to make me feel better.”

“Oh, yeah?” He challenges with a bleak smile. “Try me.”

She doesn’t.

“It takes a lot of guts to stand up against people like that,” Jung-Kook continues, choosing his words carefully. “And I’m sure you were conflicted, weren’t you? It certainly doesn’t seem like a wise decision to piss that guy off with all of your group members together. They probably wouldn’t have agreed with the idea, and would’ve just advised you to keep the peace and take his bullshit.”

“It’s...true. But, I did it anyway. You know why?”

“Hmm?”

“I um, I actually thought of you,” She confesses shyly.

“Huh. I’m curious.” Jung-Kook presses two fingers against her chin to tilt her head up, and it’s only then did he realize how unabashedly close her lips were near his. No, no – now is not the time. “In what way?”

With dried tear stains blotting her flushed cheeks, she chuckles, “I imagined you, encouraging me to stand up against him. You were telling me that you’d force me on the Sling-Shot if I didn’t. It’s so silly, isn’t it?”  

“No. Not one bit.” Pausing, he adds, “And I’m telling the truth.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you feeling better yet?”

“Well,” Ye-Rim says with a grimace. “You’re in a much sorrier state that I am. I’ll feel better once I help you clean up your bruise and your other wounds. Let me do it, okay?” Releasing her arms from his waist, she pats the lone folding chair sitting next to the desk. “I won’t make it sting, I promise.”

“Alright.” Frankly, he would’ve preferred a much longer hug as a remedy to his aching cheek, but having Ye-Rim administer ointment and ice against his bruise was just as nice. While she busies herself with the cream and gauze with a concentrated, focused gaze, a lingering thought drifts back into his mind and he stifles an amused giggle.

“What? Something funny about getting beaten up?”    

“I just realized.” His lips upturn into a teasing smile. “Back in high school, you used to complain about me using your head as an armrest. You proclaimed that you’ll overtake me instead, but I don’t think you’ve grown an inch since ninth grade, huh?” 

“ _Yah_ , Kookpa,” She tuts, flicking him in the forehead gently, but she, too, is smiling. Yep, it’s confirmed now. Smiles suit her face much more beautifully than tears or scowls. “Now is not the time to be making jokes about my height, no matter how compelling the idea may be.”

With the gauze applied and the traces of dried blood wiped away, Ye-Rim packs up the first aid kit. She has a hand wrapped around the doorknob, but Jung-Kook's voice calls her back. “ _Yah_.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Rim, um – “ Scratching the back of his head, he holds up his phone. “Did you change your number at all?”

“Uh, no. Not that I – wait,” She eyes the mobile device with a raised eyebrow. “You still have my number?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m going to sift through my contacts to singlehandedly delete people, right? I just uh, keep them there.” It surprises him how smoothly the lie comes out – and it surprises him even more when he notices the glinting sparkle in Ye-Rim's eye disappear as quickly as it had come. Was she expecting a different answer from him?

Nonetheless, she shakes her head. “No. I still have the same number.”

“Alright. Well,” He says. “Can you promise me that you’ll text me if anything happens at school? Or, you know what, just call me. Scream for help into the phone if you need to. I’ll pick up. I’ll be forever thankful to Jeno for his textbook attack, but I highly doubt that it induced brain trauma severe enough to cause permanent amnesia.”

“Only if you promise me that you’ll do the same,” Ye-Rim replies. “I doubt Tae-Yong will forget that you punched him and wrecked that perfect nose bridge.”

“I did good, though, didn’t I?” Jung-Kook asks with a smug smirk on his face, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Admit it. You were at least a tad bit impressed. My workouts have been paying off!”

“Kookpa, I condone violence.”

“...Oh, c’ ** _mon_**! You’d totally sock him if you were me!” 

Ye-RIm doesn’t argue with him any further, because honestly, it’s true.

Firstly, she _definitely_ wouldn’t mind laying a hand on Tae-Yong. That asshole deserved every ounce of pain in the world.

And secondly, well – yes, admittedly, there was something impeccably impressive about Jeon Jung-Kook tonight, leaving her heart a fluttery, jumbled mess.

Almost as if she’s falling in love with him all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of pent-up feelings and just a dash of angst to keep the story going. Also, I've decided to add one more chapter - just because. :3 My apologies for the late update, but thank-you so much for bearing with me and my poor writing schedule! I hope that you all enjoyed! ^^ Thank-you again to everybody who left kudos and comments ;_; You guys really make this enjoyable <3


	8. Rim-Kook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hai frens. I've decided to add one more chapter, haha. Just 'cause. :3 On a more serious note, I had never expected a grocery store love story to span ~40k words, but here we are! LOL.  
> I'm thankful for all of you who have left kudos and comments since the beginning, and for those who came in at a later time too. Truly, thank-you so much for giving this story a chance. :D I really wish that I could express more of my gratitude with more than just words. In the meantime, I send you all of my love in return <3 Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Squatting against the office door with their ears pressed up against it, a nosy Seung-Hwan and Ho-Seok exchange wary looks with one another. “What’s happening?” She whispers. Grabbing her equally curious boyfriend by the shoulder, she adds determinedly, “Take a peek through the gap and report what you see! I’ll give you a kiss for your efforts.”

Not that he wouldn’t have done it without the incentive (It’s Seung-Hwan, after all – who dares decline her requests?), but he didn’t understand a _single word_ she was saying. And it showed, with the way he was staring at her with furrowed, confused eyebrows. “Hwan, what ‘gap’ are you talking about?”

“The gap between the door and the floor!” She snaps as if it were completely obvious (No, Ho-Seok wants to argue, it’s not). “My head’s too big and my eyes are bad!”

Regardless, Ho-Seok does, but not without prodding his cheek for a quick consolation prize first. Squinting one eye to focus his vision on the shuffling pairs of feet, he lets out a small gasp as Converse collides into Timberland. There’s quiet murmuring occurring behind the door: Hushed voices – soft, peaceful. Wow, what striking contrast to the hilarious anecdotes told by Nam-Joon.

 _Oh, my gosh,_ Ho-Seok thinks to himself giddily, _what if they’re kissing?! What if, what if, what if they come out reconciled, as a couple?! We’ll finally get to have our double-dates! We should probably go laser-tagging first, right? And, and – maybe we’ll go paintballin’, too!_

But his wild daydream is soon crushed when a gentle thwack hits him on the shoulder and brings him back to a cold, harsh reality (Literally:  The broiler was probably acting up again). A fuming Seung-Hwan deadpans at him. “Don’t even _think_ about it!”

“How can I _not_?” He wheedles with an adorably childish pout set on his face. “And FYI, Hwannie, I bet you an entire McDonald’s Kids Meal that they’re smoochin’ in there!”

“How can you even tell?!” Seung-Hwan exclaims in exasperation. “Do you _hear_ smoochin’ sounds?”

“You’re just growing deaf!”

“Oh, my God,” Nam-Joon mumbles to an awkward Jeno, watching the two fools' bicker over how a kiss was supposed to sound to the human ear ( _“It’s described as smack, right? Or like, muah? Am I going crazy or is that how authors often describe it!?” “Well, yeah, if you’re a freaking incompetent writer!”_ ). Originally hard at work, even Jeno had to abandon the project for a while and stifle his laughter at the older man’s disgruntled complaints. Nam-Joon places a large bottle of Milkis and compostable cups onto the table. “My friends are complete idiots.”

“Oh, _hyung_ , you surely don’t mean that.”

Nam-Joon laughs, shaking his head. “I’ll gladly let you take a step in my shoes for a day, Jeno- _yah_.” And then, with a clear of his throat, he shouts boomingly (Terrifying poor Ho-Seok out of his wits, resulting in him banging his head against the doorknob), “ _Yah_ , Seok! Not that I have any qualms with you being here to spy on those two dumb-dumbs, but why don’t you just act like a sensible human and let them be? C’mon, I’ve got Milkis and instant ramen! Aren’t you guys hungry?”

It’s Seung-Hwan who responds. “Milkis is NOT of interest to us right now!”

“Yeah, _hyung_! Are you high?! What’s more important?” Ho-Seok chimes in, to which Nam-Joon realizes that arguing with him is useless when he has his girlfriend in tow. Love is a mythical and (at times) terrifying force. “Drinking carbonated yogurt, or – “

“Seok, watch your head!”

“ ** _OW_**!”

Seung-Hwan's scream suddenly resounds as the metal door swings open without warning, bashing straight into Ho-Seok's forehead. From afar, Nam-Joon can hear a stunned Ye-Rim shriek out, “Who the hell dares to eavesdrop!?”

It isn’t until Jung-Kook pokes his head around, taking in the image of Ho-Seok weeping for the aching bruise and Seung-Hwan coddling him as a mother would to a baby that he adds matter-of-factly, “That dumb _hyung_ over there.”

Flabbergasted, Ye-Rim squeezes through the gap and demands, her hands on her hips and a scrutinizing glint in her eye, “See what happens when you try to butt into another person’s private matters? Don’t do it!”

Dazed, Ho-Seok waves away her caution and instead, peeks one lazy eye open blearily, mumbling, “So like, did y’all kiss or not?”

Nam-Joon was ninety-five percent certain that the unifying chorus of “ ** _NO!_** ” could be heard from a mile away. Although he admits to himself as Ye-Rim reaches over for the kettle and pours hot water into the tiny Nong Shim package, he can’t help but feel a tinge of disappointment. How do these two silly kids manage to pretend that everything’s alright and dandy after having faced such a traumatizing situation with each other?

At the very least, they _should’ve_ made up, right? The way they’re behaving leaves him somewhat restless.

But all that disappears as quickly as it had come. Surprisingly, Nam-Joon notes with piqued interest as Ye-Rim places a thin magazine on top of the lid to retain the heat, sliding it...not towards her. Rather, she pushes it farther down towards a sleepy-looking Jung-Kook. She throws him a pair of disposable chopsticks afterward, firmly stating, “You need to eat something, Kookpa.”

“ _Yah_ , you know how I feel about – “

Ye-Rim's flinty glare shuts down whatever complaints he had prepared. “Fight me.” And then, with a softer gaze this time, she pats his head gently and – dare Nam-Joon says this – in an almost affectionate manner. That sarcastic, no-nonsense attitude aside, all of her hidden vulnerability seems to seep out. It’s a welcome change. “I only added half a packet, alright? I bet you haven’t eaten since ten o'clock. Plus, you’re _still_ awake. You’re running on low fuel here, Kookpa.”

“I can attest to that,” Nam-Joon interrupts before Jung-Kook could protest further. “Oh, and Rim.” He lowers his voice and whispers quickly with a secretive smile on his face, “It’s ‘cause he was expecting you to drop by with his coffee and sandwiches.”

Ye-Rim's eyes widen in shock, and Jung-Kook immediately stands up, barking madly, “JOONIE- _HYUNG_ , WHAT ARE YOU WHISPERING IN HER EAR?!”

Jeno grabs ahold of the older man’s flailing arms, saying as soothingly as possible, “Jung-Kook- _hyung_ , e-easy! Easy there!”

“Classified info that you don’t need to know,” Ye-Rim snaps, pointing at the steaming cup before him. “Now, eat!”

Begrudgingly so, Jung-Kook did eventually settle back into his seat without choking Nam-Joon to death. He’s not a fan of anything instant that came with artificial powders. Cup ramen, of course, was no exception. Too much MSG. Too salty. Too much sodium. Too _unhealthy_.

But since Rim had specially prepared it for him this time around, he can’t _really_ complain. His tongue is extremely biased and particular towards certain flavours, and while it normally wouldn’t accept the pre-cooked noodles, this one _did_ taste somewhat bearable. Delicious, even.

 

* * *

 

 

(And before anybody else complains that he’s neglecting her needs, _yes:_ He did go to the front counter and pay for a bag of Honey Butter chips for her as well.)

At four in the morning – bellies full and minds alert – they set to work. Ho-Seok stood behind Seung-Hwan, massaging her aching shoulders every so often. “You’re getting there, sweetheart. Keep at it.”

Ye-Rim watches them with endearment and then turns her attention back to her screen. Jung-Kook fell fast asleep beside her, using one arm as a pillow while snoring faintly. Secretly though, she thinks to herself through mid-type, she _really_ wanted him to do the same thing.

But honest to goodness, he deserved it more than she did. Propping her chin onto her fist, that fleeting moment of danger from hours earlier replays in her mind over and over like a silent black-and-white film. Call it good timing, fate or whatever:  If Jung-Kook hadn’t stepped in, what would’ve happened to her? It definitely wouldn’t be a pretty sight.

It’s funny how things turn out in the end, though. And everything had started with a simple trip to the grocery store. Who knows what could’ve transpired after that? She could’ve continued to treat him with cold hostility. She could’ve completely ignored him altogether had she been the bigger person. Or she could’ve just gone to a different store to get her weekly shopping done and she would’ve never had to deal with his malicious mockery again. 

But no, she didn’t. And here they are now, sitting side-by-side with dried spit crusting on the corners of his mouth. Ye-Rim doesn’t believe in the mumbo-jumbo crap about reignited first loves and meant-to-be romances, but there’s a pleasurable thrum tingling in her heart, encouraging her to give him one more chance. Not for the sake of proving that he’s boyfriend material (He’s not), but to actually sit down and listen to his side of the story. Admittedly, she never did. Grimacing, she takes a moment to examine her right palm:  The one that had so viciously slapped him just outside Seoul Station in front of all those passerby's' so many years ago, wondering why two high schoolers were shouting at one another.

Because there’s just no way that this person – the one who placed her safety above his own at that moment – was the same person that also deliberately kissed another girl in front of her face. Granted, people change and that _could_ be one explanation but...she sets her notebook down. She just couldn’t put two and two together.

“Something up, Ye-Rimmie- _noona_?” Jeno asks curiously, his gaze shifting between the sleepy youngster and her. “You look transfixed on something. You haven’t moved your cursor at all on the document.”

Ye-Rim's head snaps up at Jeno’s question, but she only shakes her head.

“Nope. Not at all.”

 

* * *

 

 

Within one hour – Ye-Rim honestly doesn’t know how they did it, but they managed to pull through – they were only two thousand or so words short of completing the assignment. She couldn’t be more elated, radiating vitamin-y smiles in all directions. Tired as Nam-Joon and Ho-Seok were from hosting their impromptu guests (Especially Nam-Joon:  He looks like he’s been awake for more than twenty-four hours), even they couldn’t help but grin back at her infectious positivity. No wonder Yoongi found her interesting. She works better than Red Bull. 

“We’re doing so much better without Tae-Yong around, aren’t we?” She says happily, scrolling through the introduction and the results section of an online research paper.

“You say that,” Seung-Hwan begins carefully, but there’s a sense of precautionary warning to her voice as if trying to tell her to remain vigilant. “But we don’t know how he’ll behave when we see him on Monday. Rim, as always, please watch out.”

“I will,” Ye-Rim says, nodding. Letting out a relieved sigh, she stretches her arms into the air and mumbles, “God, I am _so_ burnt out. I just want to sleep.” 

“You should,” Seung-Hwan says in agreement. “We know what to write. You can just proofread it when you’re awake.”

“Yeah, _noona_. Go on, take a nap. You’ve done the bulk of the work.”

So, at the request of her project members, Ye-Rim finally concedes defeat to the darkness. Her heavy eyelids could no longer combat against the tiredness creeping in, so she closes her laptop shut and sets her mobile phone alarm to six-fifteen.

But the moment she falls into a deep slumber (Around fifteen minutes in), Jeon Jung-Kook suddenly awakens, stifling a yawn. Seung-Hwan stares incredulously, muttering, “That’s some soulmate shit right there. Do your internal clocks just sync with one another?”

“A fair observation, but most likely not, Seung-Hwan- _noona_ ,” He says with a laugh. Rubbing the grit out of his eyes, his vision clears to Ye-Rim with her arms crossed and back leaning against the chair, her chin tilted down as her chest rose with each steady breath. “Man, the poor thing. Her eyes were so red a few hours ago; I’m glad you guys told her to take a break.”

“Wait,” Jeno begins uncertainly. “You heard us talking?”

“The perks of being a light sleeper.” The laughter soon dissolves into a frown, and Jung-Kook shakes his head. “She’s going to wake up with a strained neck if she keeps sleeping like that, I swear.” As carefully as he can without arousing her, he scoots his chair closer towards Ye-Rim and with one hand, tips her head towards his side just so that it would land at a comfortable angle onto his shoulder. Unable to distinguish Jeno’s look of awe from skepticism, he clarifies, “It’s bony, but at least it’s better than that rickety chair. Anyway, are you guys almost done?”

The younger boy nods enthusiastically. “Yes. Thank-you so much, _hyung._ I drew so much inspiration for writing from bags of wild rice. Do you mind if I pop by to study?”

“Ask Joonie- _hyung_ , not me,” Jung-Kook chuckles, to which Nam-Joon shrugs with a smile reading, _‘Why not?’_. “Although, if you really want to pay me back, you can help me with one task. Watch out for Rim when you guys attend class on Monday, and let me know right away if anything happens.” It’s not that he doesn’t trust Ye-Rim, he adds as an afterthought when Jeno and Seung-Hwan input their numbers into his contact list, but he couldn’t discount the possibility that she would still hide things from him.

“Should we call you Superman Jung-Kook?”

“I’m not invincible,” Jung-Kook says wryly, pointing at the giant bruise on his face. He pulls Ye-Rim's laptop towards him and opens it up. Her keyboard is littered with an array of brightly-colored stickers and taped with post-it notes scribbled in tiny, neat writing: ‘Check-up with Dr. KFC-Mascot-Wannabe' (That must be the doctor that provided her with nutritional advice); ‘Egg sandwiches – buy free-range and try to make Seung-Hwan's potato salad!’ and lastly, a blue sticky with Jung-Kook's work schedule.

He’s tempted to call her out on poor memory but decides against it. On the contrary, he’s actually quite touched that she went to such lengths to remember something so trivial. That’s Rim for you though, he surmises.   

“Now, what on Earth are you doing, Kook?” Nam-Joon calls out curiously from his own files.

“Assisting,” Jung-Kook replies. “Twenty-thousand words isn’t an easy feat to read on her own, y’know, especially when she’s conked out like this.” Typing quickly, the lock screen fades away to reveal Ye-Rim's open browser, and he scrolls up to the first page of the shared Google Document. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Ho-Seok coos in amazement, applauding softly. “How’d you know her password?!”

“Simple. Rim’s a total buffoon who only uses two passwords. One being her birthday. And if it’s not her birthday, then it’ll definitely be option two, which is...well – “ Jung-Kook laughs for a brief moment before turning his attention back to the screen. “Joinsung123.”

“Wait,” Seung-Hwan interjects. “Jo – In – Sung? As in, the actor, Jo In-Sung?!”

Jung-Kook nods. “Yep, that’s the one! She loved, and I mean, _loved_ him in ‘It’s Okay, That’s Love’. My God, I don’t know how many times she sang the OST during _noraebang_ , but I mean.” He shrugs. “Whatever makes her happy, right? In any case, the main takeaway is that Rim’s very easy to hack and will most likely be nominated as the one to have her online bank accounts drained of her savings by the time she’s – “ His tirade is cut short when Ye-Rim's eye pops open, two fingers pinching the side of his waist. “OW, FOR GOD’S SAKE!” 

“Say anymore, Kookpa,” She warns. “And I _will_ do it again. Just sayin’.”

“Or,” Jung-Kook retorts, poking her forehead. “Why don’t you _stop bothering me_ and just go back to sleep?!”

“Fight me!”

At that, Seung-Hwan and Jeno both exchange defeated sighs and shakes of the head. It’d take a miracle for them to get to a point where they wouldn’t bicker over petty things.

But for Nam-Joon, he already sees this as a vast improvement. He lets out a low whistle as Ho-Seok walks by, murmuring quietly, “You’re quite lucky to see them so mellow, Seok. They’re not normally this well-behaved.”

“Mellow or not,” Ho-Seok comments, listening to Jung-Kook making snide remarks about the younger girls’ spelling and ‘atrocious grammar’ ( _“See. You definitely wrote this part. Who the fuck switches between passive and active voices in the same paragraph?!” “Fuck you!”_ ). “They're incredibly cute.”

“You know it.”

( _“Effect. Please use effect here. Not affect. Those two are not the same.” “I know. You don’t need to tell me twice.”)_

“Count me in as a new member of the JungRi fanclub.”

Nam-Joon snaps his fingers together. “Let’s induct Jeno and Seung-Hwan in.”

_(“Why do you use such superfluous language? Keep it simple. God, Rim. We aren’t living in one of your WonderBang fanfictions, alright?” “Will you please stop bringing up shit from my past?”)_

“And make merch,” Ho-Seok suggests. “Jackets and enamel pins.”

“I’ll get back to you on that.”

In the meantime, there’s some integral reporting that needs to be done. 

 

* * *

 

 

 _From:  Namchoon_  
_Sent At:  6:02 A.M._

_Dude. Look._

_From:  Jjang Jjang Man Boong Boong_  
_Sent At:  7:05 A.M._

_Wtf. Why are you still at the store? Aren’t you supposed to be home by now? And what in the fucking hell happened to Kook’s face?! And...wait a minute, who is THAT lying next to him?! Is that Rim?_

_From:  Namchoon_  
_Sent At:  7:10 A.M._  
  
_Mornin’, Sleeping Beauty. I was wondering when you’d awaken._

 _From:  Jjang Jjang Man Boong Boong_  
_Sent At:  7:11 A.M._

_Aish. Just answer my question, dumbass._

_From:  Namchoon_  
_Sent At:  7:12 A.M._

_Which one?_

_From:  Jjang Jjang Man Boong Boong_  
_Sent At:  7:15 A.M._

_You’re really grinding my gears on a Saturday morning. Thank your lucky stars you don’t have work tonight, or else I would have actually fucking murdered you when you weren’t looking._

_From:  Rosie Posie_  
_Sent At:  7:21 A.M._

_Is this a private chat for the JungRi FC?_

_From:  Namchoon_  
_Sent At:  7:23 A.M._

_Welcome, welcome! ^_^_

_From:  Rosie Posie_  
_Sent At:  7:30 A.M._

_I was wondering why my phone was getting bombarded with all these notifications. Anyway, that’s not the point. OMG. My heart ><! I think I’m ready for the afterlife now. They’re so flipping cute!_

_From:  Jjang Jjang Man Boong Boong_  
_Sent At:  7:23 A.M._

_Yeah, yeah, they’re adorable. What else is new? Joon, honestly. What happened?!_

_From:  Namchoon_  
_Sent At:  7:24 A.M._

_Boy, strap in. It’s a rough ride._

_From:  Jjang Jjang Man Boong Boong_  
_Sent At:  7:26 A.M._

_Ugh. Forget it. I need my sleep. THIS, HOWEVER, DOES NOT MEAN THAT YOU SHOULD STOP TYPING. KEEP TYPING. I’LL READ IT IN THE MORNING._

_From:  Rosie Posie_  
_Sent At:  7:41 A.M._

_It...is morning?_

_From:  Jjang Jjang Man Boong Boong_  
_Sent At:  7:42 A.M._

_Dun matter. IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFFSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS_

_From:  Rosie Posie_  
_Sent At:  7:43 A.M._

_?_

_From:  Namchoon_  
_Sent At:  7:59 A.M._

_Yep. He passed out. Again._

 

* * *

 

 

By eight o’clock, the entire lab report was finally revised and re-read for the umpteenth time by Jung-Kook. “You’ve got my final stamp of approval, Rim.”

“Anything that has your authorization, I’m just going to go ahead and submit,” Ye-Rim mutters under her breath, itching the corner of her eye. Ho-Seok and Seung-Hwan were long gone by then after much pressuring from the two youngsters, and reluctantly, they left, dragging a somewhat giggly Jeno along with them.

“And what on Earth was _he_ laughing about?” Ye-Rim asks in bewilderment, scratching the back of her head.

“Ey, not that it matters.” Lies:  Jung-Kook knew exactly what he was talking about. He heard him whispering (Giving the word a completely new definition), _‘Let’s give the two of them some time together’._ The JungRi fanclub had grown exponentially overnight, but it doesn’t bother him as much anymore. He’s had a change of heart – and somehow, he’s...fine with the idea now. Huh, how funny. 

The weight from Ye-Rim's head resting against his shoulder suddenly fades as she stands up, stretching her arms into the air while heaving a sigh of relief. Despite staying up the entire night, she looks refreshed somehow. “It’s over,” She murmurs in disbelief. “It’s _really_ over. God.”

Jung-Kook can’t help but grin, extending his hand to ruffle her hair affectionately. “You did well, Rim. Good job.”

“It’s not just me,” She says, almost shyly. “Everybody pitched in to make this successful.” Punching a fist against his shoulder, she adds, “You, too, Kookpa. Thank-you for helping me.”

“Finally learning to acknowledge your elders, huh?”

“You said it, not me.” Ye-Rim glances at the darkened stain on his shirt, pursing her lips together in a thin line. “Also, I’m sorry. I probably dirtied your shirt – I'll get you a new one, I promise.”

“Don’t bother,” Jung-Kook says, waving her apology away. “This is old. But you can, however, repay me by eating _this_.” He disappears into the walk-in fridge for a moment, returning with a crinkly package hiding in his hands. He presents it to her with a beaming, proud grin. 

 _Warabi mochi_ , dusted in the sandy-tinted, nutty powder that she always enjoyed: An all-time favourite of hers.

“I know you’re not supposed to have any sugar right now, but look, I’ll make an exception just this once. Here:  A reward for you.”

“A reward?” Ye-Rim questions skeptically. “Or, is this just you trying to give me free food before its expiry date?”

“ _Yah_ , I’m not that cruel!” Jung-Kook ends up missing the look she sends him when she playfully slaps his arm, but thankfully, Nam-Joon doesn’t. And that smile she’s trying to fight? Well, it’s more than consolation enough.

Jung-Kook ends up walking her to the storefront, and while he did suggest seeing her to her apartment ( _“A little creepy, Kookpa. You want to know where I live?”_ ), she refuses his offer. Dabbing her finger against the shadowy ovals underneath his eyes, she says, “You desperately need to sleep. Look at yourself.”

“Laneige’s face mask works wonders. They’ll go away eventually,” Jung-Kook says dryly, waving good-bye. She trudges up the steep hill lethargically, and then all of a sudden, an unexpected force propels him to shout loudly at her backside. “Rim!”

Underneath the glow of the early morning sun, she seemed particularly radiant to the eye – especially with her expectant smile that forces his heart to do several somersaults. “Yeah?”

“Call me if anything happens.”

“Yes, I will!” She hollers from a block away. “You do the same! Don’t be a stranger, okay? I’m only a street away – if,” Her voice lowers to a quiet murmur as she adds as a quiet afterthought to nobody in particular, “If, you know, if you ever need me.”

 

* * *

 

 

 _From:  Kookpa_  
_Sent At:  8:42 A.M._

_Remember, Rim! Call me!_

_From:  Rim_  
_Sent At:  8:45 A.M._

_Oh, I'm sorry. I don’t talk to worrywarts._

_From:  Kookpa_  
_Sent At:  8:51 A.M._

_You’re mean._

_From: Rim_  
_Sent At:  8:55 A.M._

_So are you._

 

* * *

 

 

After five minutes, Ye-Rim finally disappears beyond his periphery and Jung-Kook finally exhales, his breath manifesting in the freezing weather like a white, cloudy fog.  He might not be able to walk her back, but at the very least, he needed to see that she made it within the proximity of her apartment. This way, he could at least muster up the remainder of his strength and make a sprint for it if she encountered trouble along the way.

_(He’s becoming paranoid. Maybe it’s the lack of shut-eye.)_

Jung-Kook, however, is less than enthusiastic when he returns to the back room with heavy footsteps. Not surprisingly, Nam-Joon is standing, leaning against the previously occupied table with his arms crossed and a tight-lipped grimace on his face.

“Kook.” 

The younger man collapses into a nearby chair, muttering, “ _Hyung_ , I – “

“Don’t bother calling me a ‘ _hyung_ ’ until you can sort out your messy feelings, Kook.”

“You didn’t even hear the rest of what I had to say. Why are you jumping to conclusions?” Jung-Kook spits out, his voice coated in a tone of annoyance. At once, that frown on Nam-Joon's face deepens further into unmistakable disappointment, and Jung-Kook is immediately hit with a pang of guilt. He shouldn’t be this rude; the older man was just looking out for them.

“Alright. I’m sorry.” Jung-Kook rubs the back of his nape, muttering, “It’s been a long night. But I guess, whether I like it or not, this has been a long time coming. Alright, Joonie- _hyung_. Are you ready?’

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Alright. Here’s the story.”

 

* * *

 

 

Most high school relationships generally start off a little cliché. A forgotten textbook, sharing an umbrella underneath the dreary blanket of dark gray, misplaced pencil cases, piggyback rides that lead to unexpected confessions – but for Jeon Jung-Kook and Kim Ye-Rim, it was anything but stereotypical.

“I’m not sure why,” Jung-Kook confesses awkwardly, tousling his already tangled hair into a bigger mess. “But when I saw her standing up to that girl to fend for her classmate that day, she really left an impression on me.”

Nam-Joon doesn’t reply; he gives him an acknowledging nod, prompting him to continue.

By chance, they had shared a mutual friendship with his Soo-Young _noona_ , so naturally, he was more than intrigued about this mysterious student. But oh God, Jung-Kook chortles, once he fell down the rabbit hole, there was no going back.

“There were so many things that I disliked about her back then.” Soo-Young was neat, organized, prim and proper – but _Rim_?

“She liked wearing her hazelnut locks in childish braids. She was very crass, dropping curse words as if it were no big deal during our study sessions; she studied a little too much and put too much pressure on herself; she strived to be perfect; she was too outspoken at times; she didn’t like doing any form of exercise.”

“And she liked junk food.”

Jung-Kook laughs, airy and bright. “Yes, that too.” Honestly, they shouldn’t have seen eye-to-eye with one another. Much less fall for one another.

But they did, Nam-Joon points out, to which Jung-Kook doesn’t deny.

“Nobody in this world is flawless, Joonie- _hyung_. Heck, I’m not. And I’m willing to bet you tonight’s petty cash that Rim has her own list somewhere, outlining things that she didn’t like about me.”

She’s a little rough around the edges, but for Jung-Kook, that flaw just added to her appeal. And the longer he became acquainted with her, the more he saw her shortcomings as her strengths. Stubborn and headstrong became tenacious and strong-willed. Loud and boisterous became cheerful and outgoing, which she was. She was the type to never back down from her beliefs – be it against bullies, incompetent teachers and what not – and she fought for her ideals, even when it went against the majority. Everyone at that age was just looking for a group to blend in with.

Not her.

“She was very inspiring.” Even though Jung-Kook has his gaze averted downward, Nam-Joon can hear the confidence in his words. “And I know how hypocritical this sounds with me complaining about her and all, but in some ways, I wanted to emulate her.”

“I see it,” Nam-Joon says. Jung-Kook doesn’t know whether his _hyung_ is saying it ‘just because’, or whether he actually sees traces of her imprinted within him. Nonetheless, he clears his throat and continues his narration.

How they went from acquaintances to fast friends and, subsequently, a high school _some_ _that_ quickly, Jung-Kook wasn’t sure. All he knew was that one day, out of the blue, he no longer saw it as just a comfortable friendship – but that’s what pubescent feelings were all about at that age, right?

And perhaps Rim had sensed it too because not long after, she began reciprocating his affections with a push-pull dynamic that kept him clumsily dancing about on his toes.

“I’d like to think that it would be reminiscent of how you two behave now.”

That’s right, Jung-Kook says. They liked to argue and debate over world issues as if they were two opposing political parties vying for the final vote. Sometimes, he’d push her last nerve – just because her irritated expression was awfully adorable, and she’ll respond with a snarky remark of her own to snipe at him. Sometimes, she’ll use her rare _aegyo_ to coax him into buying her a chocolate croissant from the cafeteria (And he did, shamefully). And on other days, they studied in peaceful tranquility just like other couples. And if she was feeling up to it, she’d purposefully cough into her elbow, hold out her hand and mumble shyly, ‘Cold.’

“Wait.” Nam-Joon scrunches his nose, confused. “Just one word?”

“Well, technically, it would be three in total. I wouldn’t respond, and she’d just shout, ‘Cold! Now, _hold_!’”

Nam-Joon's heartstrings twinge at the imagery. Good _God_. That was something people read off of r/cringe. Not things that happened in reality.

But then again, it’s Rim. That girl, strange as she is, is a special gem. And because it was them, it made the anecdote that much more heartwarming.

“She got me these, too!” Jung-Kook adds, his voice growing excited as he raised his foot into the air. The Timberlands were scuffed, dusty and covered with dried mud and slush. Others might recoil at the lack of care, but Nam-Joon sees this as a sign that these shoes were well-loved by its owner.

“Eight months of this, back and forth. This sounds a little out of character for her,” Nam-Joon comments. “Wouldn’t she say something about the lack of initiative?”

 Nam-Joon is ever the detective. Nothing ever goes undetected.

“Yeah. And to be honest, that’s my fault.” Jung-Kook, admitting to his mistakes? That's a first. “Rim was only a tenth grader back then, but the way she talked about the future – God, you’d think she was in her first year of university. She was ambitious.”

Ambitious, he adds, was putting it lightly. Ye-Rim wanted to do everything imaginable. She wanted to travel the world; she wanted to do a year of exchange – maybe in Canada, or even in France; she wanted to make the world a better place, discussing (In great detail) her blueprints for inventions to make the planet greener. Nam-Joon can see it:  A tiny, uniform-clad Ye-Rim, going on and on about her hopes and dreams while Jung-Kook watched her with enamored, glistening eyes in the stifling-hot library.

“And all the while, she liked to add me into the conversation, too. She started using – “ Jung-Kook pauses, his tongue clicking against the back of his teeth. His fingers scrunch up the fabric of his pants in a nervous hold as he continues, “We. She was including me in her plans.”

_‘I’ll come to visit you when you start university. We might not be studying similar things, but we can still you know, spend time together as we usually do, right?’_

_‘You need to tell me what you like to eat. Yah. Why are you giving me that look? My parents are still going to invite you for dinner whether you like it or not!’_

“So, it was fear of commitment that had scared you?”

Jung-Kook shakes his head. “Contrarily, no.” It seems a little difficult to explain, and he certainly looked as if he had his tongue twisted in a knot. If it wasn’t commitment phobia, then what could it be? But then, it suddenly hits Nam-Joon:  Jung-Kook didn’t want to chain her down to a relationship when she was still that young. He shouldn’t be too far off the mark, but he still needed to probe a little bit more.

“I think I get it.”

“Wait, you do?”

The older man’s lips curve up into a somewhat sad smile. “The typical ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ excuse. Except, it really _was_ you. You thought you were dragging her down, weren’t you? You were having doubts about yourself.”

“Frankly, I made it into _Yonsei_ through pure luck. And that scholarship?” Jung-Kook scoffs at the idea. “It was pure horseshit. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, so I just decided on a random major like sociology. I’m only good at thinking up excellent comebacks, but me at the time had harbored many negative thoughts. Things like, what good could I do with a skill like _that_? And over here, we have _Rim_. Rim with her excellent grades and her sky-high aspirations. I paled in comparison to her achievements.”

What Jung-Kook says next leaves Nam-Joon completely shattered.

“I felt like she deserved more. That somebody much more accomplished would be able to give her more. She made me better, and over the course of our _some_ , I’m certain that I gave her something fun to reminisce about her high school years. But at the end of the day,” The young man glances into an empty corner of the room, his light-brown irises misty. “I didn't feel like I could offer her any incentive if I kept her to myself.”    

The younger man’s confession leaves Nam-Joon stunned. Too stunned for words. He had never expected him to be so openly candid about his personal issues before – or that he had any, to begin with. On the outside, Jung-Kook had always seemed like such a naturally upbeat person with an easygoing personality who didn’t care about other peoples’ opinions. Happy-go-lucky, perpetually cheerful.

But as it turns out, the reality is not always as it seems.  Dashingly good looks and perfectly-sculpted nose bridges didn’t matter when one lacked self-confidence.

“And that’s why,” Nam-Joon finishes quietly. “You staged that entire show with that girl to break her heart, didn’t you? That’s why she reacted so negatively towards Chae-Youngie.”  _Finally, it all makes sense._

“You’ve seen how she is. How do you think she would’ve reacted if I told her what I just told you?” Jung-Kook asks. Just then, his sullen expression suddenly turns a little brighter as if he had just released a heavy-bearing weight off his shoulders. “At first, I thought I was just being salty when I saw her again, y’know.” Glancing down at his palms, he adds, “That I wanted to get back at her for humiliating me at the time.”

“Well,” Nam-Joon begins wryly. “We all know Yoongi- _hyung_ 's never wrong.”

“Damn asshole.” Jung-Kook slams his palm against the table, his humorous and lively persona returning. “He should at least warn me!” 

The youngster never provided any form of verbal affirmation, but the fondness that flashed through his eyes during their heart-to-heart was enough of a confirmation. “On a more serious note.” The older man folds his hands together into his lap. “Why didn’t you just ask her how _she_ felt? Did you ever consider her opinion? Whether she truly wanted you to, for lack of a better term, break-up with her like that?”

Nam-Joon's right. He’s _so damn right_. He thought he was being all noble and high and mighty, thinking of Ye-Rim's best interests when in actuality? It was the complete opposite. At that, Ye-Rim's tear-streaked face suddenly materializes in the back of Jung-Kook's mind. God, just that image itself was enough to remind himself of how stupid he had behaved.  Had he been just a bit more mature and thought things through, he wouldn’t be stuck in this predicament now, would he?

“I just – “ His explanation fumbles across his tongue, but finally, he manages to say, “God, _hyung_. I just did what I thought was right for the both of us at the time. And honestly? I know for a fact that the me now would’ve smacked the younger me for it, too.”

At that, Nam-Joon laughs, patting the top of the younger man’s head soothingly.  “I’ll cut you some slack, Kook.”

“If she found out now, I doubt she’d ever forgive me.”

“Well now, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Hiding within the lilt of Nam-Joon's voice is the slightest hint of encouragement, and Jung-Kook looks up at his elder with wide, surprised eyes. “And you know what? I think she’s getting there.”

The question comes out in a meek whisper. “You _really_ think so?”

“There’s an entire list, but Kook, this entire night has shown me that she still harbors something affectionate for you. So, take it from an old-timer like me.” With that, Nam-Joon stands up and clasps a hand over Jung-Kook's shoulder, squeezing it firmly with hopes that it would be enough to convey his sentiments.

“You never know until you try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end of the day, Jung-Kook can't keep up that facade for too long. He dotes on Ye-Rim too much ;_;  
> And now! The cat's finally out of the bag. Will we ever hear Rim's side of the story? And will Jung-Kook ever convey what his heart wants to say?! Hehe. :3 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	9. Rim-Kook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Long time, no see :3 Firstly, my apologies for the wait! To be honest, I encountered some troubles when writing this chapter - mainly because I wanted the climax of the story to make sense and not seem like, "WTF, WHY DIDN'T HE DO SOMETHING ELSE?!"   
> Yeah...so there was a LOT of writing and re-writing done. Lmao. Nonetheless, I really hope that this chapter lives up to your expectations. 
> 
> Before you proceed, please note: Similarly to Chapter 6 and 7, there is going to be a LOT more violence, physical assault and rather graphic depictions of said abuse described as well. As these are triggering topics that may invoke some unpleasant experiences or memories, please feel free to click out at any time you feel discomfort. 
> 
> Last but not least. Thank-you. Thank-you all so, SO much. <3 Thank-you for sticking with me and with this story from the start - we're almost there, guys! They WILL get their happy ending! (Oops, major spoilers. LOL). 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! ^^

Being the designated ‘Mom Friend’ within their quintet, Bae Joo-Hyun was not amused in the slightest when she found out what had transpired earlier during the day. Undoubtedly soft-spoken and demure, never the type to wear her heart on her sleeve and display her deepest emotions – anger being one of them.

But on the rare occasion that she _did_ , she wasn’t the type to use her voice to convey her fury (That was Seulgi’s role). Nor would she punch things into her pillow (Seung-Hwan, within the privacy of her bedroom).

No. That wasn’t the Bae Joo-Hyun way. What she did, Ye-Rim thought was much worse – enough to instill some form of terrorizing fear within the younger woman.

She tends to start with a deep sigh, proceeding to an even deeper inhale. And then, her questions tend to come somberly. On the other end of the group call, Ye-Rim hears her say, “ _Yah._ Kim Ye-Rim. Why is it that you _always_ get yourself into trouble?”

Oh, my God. Just her _tone_ is enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand. 

“I uh,” Ye-Rim flubs, pacing the living room in circles nervously. She can hear a loud crinkle and continuous popping somewhere in the background – Seulgi's probably microwaving popcorn, eagerly anticipating the show’s conclusion. “Well, I uh – “

“No excuses,” Joo-Hyun cuts in. _Again_ , she should’ve just yelled. But hell, that’s her power:  Even her soft murmuring is already enough for Ye-Rim to keep her lips from moving to spew out some flimsy explanation. “Rim, how could you – “

Ye-Rim ends up placing the mobile a few inches away to mute out the seething woman’s jabbering, her hand palming her forehead in exasperation. Seung-Hwan was going to _get it_ on Monday. Joo-Hyun goes on and on through her quiet tirade, and Ye-Rim picks up a few words here and there about ‘lack of responsibilities’, ‘carelessness’ and then –

“Jung-Kook- _sshi_ – “ 

Immediately, almost in a frantic manner, she draws her phone back to her ear.

“Wait, what did you just say about him?!”

Soo-Young doesn’t even try to hide her pig-like chortle behind Seulgi’s munching and Seung-Hwan's equally cheery giggle. Jeez, for someone who had the pleasure of watching her new friends nearly get pummeled in the face, she sure sounds jolly. “I told you it would work, _unni_.”

“ _Yah_ , you guys!” Ye-Rim groans, flopping onto her bed face first. “Not fair! Don’t take me by surprise like that!”

“’Ow cwute! Didja two make kwup?” Seulgi chimes in curiously, her mouth full of crunchy kernels.

“ _Yah_ , Seul,” Seung-Hwan tuts with a prolonged ‘tsk-tsk'. “Don’t be impolite and swallow your food.”

“Cwan’t! ‘Oo eck-cited! I wanna see dis fer m’self!”

“Nothing!” Ye-Rim squeaks, burying inside her covers whilst huddling her legs and arms together. “Nothing is happening!”

Sensing the younger woman’s sudden shyness, even Joo-Hyun can’t hide her delight. All traces of vexation gone, she adds gently, “All joking matters aside. Seriously, Ye-Rim, I’m just thankful that he was there for you. Don’t be so harsh to him anymore, okay? He cares about you so much!” 

To which Ye-Rim thinks to herself thoughtfully, _you don’t need to tell me twice, unni. I’m just as thankful for him, too._ Albeit, she’ll never admit it.

Well, never is too much, isn’t it? How about ‘ _Not yet_ ’?  Not yet spoke of a rekindled possibility; a second chance.  The more she thinks about it, the more she likes the sound of that.

“So like,” Seulgi says after swallowing her food with a loud gulp, snapping Ye-Rim out of her sudden fantasy. “Is he back to being your boyfriend yet?”

“ ** _No_**! Absolutely not!”

“Come on, Rim,” Seung-Hwan sniggers. “Admit it. You want him back, don’t you?”

The last thing the quartet hears their youngest bellow is, “ ** _AND A_** **_GOOD-BYE TO YOU ALL!_** ” before she disconnects with a cherry-red face and an unmistakably wide grin. She’s _so_ immature, behaving so childishly over a previous high school crush with the stereotypical traits of a lovesick idiot to match –

But you know what?

Underneath her blanket with her phone propped beside her pillow with their short conversation on full display, she realizes she’s actually fine with that, too.

 

* * *

 

 

That same smile, however, barely made an appearance on the following Monday morning when Ye-Rim arrived on campus at nine o’clock.

It starts off somewhat mundane:  A daring hop from the top step off the bus with a perky ‘thank-you!’ to her regular bus driver, the old geezer completely confused as to _why_ that peppy youngster was in such a good mood; an almost jovial skip to her favourite coffee shop, with her clumsy fingers nearly spilling the caramel macchiato when her phone buzzes with a short message from the messy-haired young man that had drifted so sweetly into her dreams the night before –

Admittedly, she couldn’t deny that nervous jolt that made her stomach do somersaults when she neared her lecture hall. Not that she would _need_ Jung-Kook's presence to keep her at ease; she has Seung-Hwan and Jeno to back her up if things went awry, but –

 _From:  Kookpa_  
_Sent At:  9:21 A.M._

 _Take care, Rim!_  

One more peek wouldn’t hurt.

With her head held high and her jaw gritted firm, she enters the crowded room with her hands gripping the straps of her bookbag tightly. Standing at the entryway, she watches as Seung-Hwan and Jeno, seated together in the fifth row from the front, waves at her to join them quickly. Hurrying down the steps, her watchful eyes briefly scan the audience settling into their seats with their laptops and notepads.

Much to Ye-Rim's elation (And relief), there was no Lee Tae-Yong present. Nor were any members from his equally horrible posse there.

 _But is that **truly** a good thing?_ Ye-Rim isn’t so sure.

Sidling past a few lingering students loitering about in the stairway, she tosses both Seung-Hwan and Jeno a nod of acknowledgment before getting herself organized. Seung-Hwan wastes no time in asking, “Did anything happen to you on the way here? I was pretty worried about you.”

“No, but thanks anyway, _unni._ ” The ceiling lights dim, but through the darkness, Ye-Rim can make out Jeno’s expression of unadulterated terror from the bright laptop screen illuminating his features. “How about you guys?”

With his arms crossed against his chest, he sighs quietly.  “Nah. But, holy shit, I _still_ can’t believe I hit him in the back of the head like that.”

“ _Yah_ , remember what Jung-Kook said? You single-handedly _saved_ us, Jeno. If you didn’t, who knows what could’ve happened?”

“That’s true.” The dark-haired boy rubs the side of his neck, and then his perspiring nape once more. “I’m just – _scared_ , y’know? Like, what if Professor Lee found out?”

“He’s a stout, balding man with a penchant for overdosing on one too many hamburgers from In-N-Out,” Ye-Rim snorts derisively, glancing at the overhead projector struggling to stay on. “And besides, you know how all the faculty members are here. It’s not like they actually give two shits about us now, do they? All they know how to do is just refer us to the student counsellor, and she has her hands full as is.” Patting the younger man comfortingly on the head, she says with a reassuring smile, “Don’t worry too much. If anything, I’ll take responsibility.”

“...Rim- _noona_ – “

“Alright, alright. Settle down!” Their lecturer bellows with a thunderous clap of his hands.

Professor Lee Soo-Man, associate dean of chemical engineering and full-time asshole. He’s a heavy-set man with a single tuft of black settled on top of his head like licorice-flavored cotton candy – a tell-tale sign that he should be taking more vitamins and supplements – and horn-rimmed glasses on a stern-looking face, speckled with dark age spots and creased with protruding wrinkles.

Honestly, he reminded Ye-Rim of a grandfather itching to retire, but refused to – and it _definitely_ wasn’t because he so wholeheartedly enjoyed teaching, either. Less-than-impressive exterior aside, the man was also perpetually grouchy, glaring at any student who decided to disrupt the silence with crinkling wrappers or clinking water bottles. He barely awarded the hard-working with A’s and practically disagreed with every single student who tried to express their viewpoints.  It was always ‘his way or the highway’.

Well, _partially_ , with an exception being Lee Tae-Yong. It was glaringly obvious that he was Lee Soo-Man's favourite.  The damn rich kid always made it to the top of the class with suspiciously impressive results. Sure, it irked her to some degree initially at the start of the semester – primarily because of her competitive spirit – but discovering the ugly personality that he hid underneath his good looks just made him ten times more loathsome now.

Ye-Rim sighs, tapping her stylus against the screen to open up her e-mail. Always the same old bullshit as always with program updates, networking events, professors seeking research assistants and newsletters reminding students of course selection dates for the Spring semester and...

Her hand suddenly freezes in mid-air when her eyes skim the subject line of the next e-mail, flagged with a red arrow. ‘ **High Importance** ’.  

_From:_ [_sman182@skku.edu_  
](mailto:sman182@skku.edu) _Mon 26/11, 7:21 AM_

_Subject:  Group Project Inquiry_

Swallowing thickly, Ye-Rim attempts to keep her breathing leveled as she fearfully taps it open. 

_Good morning Ye-Rim-sshi,_

_I received a rather disturbing complaint from one of your group members over the weekend. Now, I would like to reiterate the fact that I do not want this to become a ‘he-said-she-said' type of situation. However, I also condone any type of inappropriate misconduct against my students – male or female. As such, I’d like to get a clear understanding on this as soon as possible and to have this resolved in a civil manner. Please bring Jeno-sshi and Seung-Hwan-sshi with you as well._

_Best regards,_

_Professor Lee_  
_Associate Dean of Chemical Engineering_

Ye-Rim reads through the e-mail once more. Then twice. By the third time, she can’t help but choke out a quiet laugh of defeat into the air full of quiet discussion regarding the question displayed on the screen.

_Civil manner, my fucking ass._

 

* * *

 

 

She knocks twice. Both times, the rap against the door is filled with a certain tenacity that she doesn’t bother concealing. “Come in.”

She walks in, glaring at Professor Lee while he returned her gaze with an ugly, smug smirk. Why’s he looking at her like that?

“Ah, Ye-Rim- _sshi_.” Gesturing for her to step in closer with a wave of his hand, the atmosphere suddenly turns unbearably tense. But no, she’s not going to let him step all over her, even if he _may_ be someone that could make or break her with a snap of his fingers. “Please. Have a seat. Would you like something to drink?”

“I appreciate the hospitality, but I don’t think that will be necessary, Professor Lee,” Ye-Rim replies coolly, arms folded against her chest. Right away, she detects that raise of his eyebrows that disappears within a flash, but he keeps his hand steady as he pours himself a steaming cup of tea. “Thank-you for your rather direct e-mail.”

“I had asked you to bring Jeno and Seung-Hwan here today.” He glances behind her briefly. “Were you too nervous about our impromptu meeting that you forgot even the most basic skill that is reading comprehension?”

 _And this asshole is supposed to be a co-lead for our faculty? What a fucking joke._ “I appreciate your compliments, Professor Lee,” Ye-Rim spits out, staring deep into the aging man’s dark, beady eyes. “However, I’m just going to state right here and now that they had absolutely _nothing_ to do with it.”

“ ** _It_**?” The word escapes off the tip of his tongue with a click, and Ye-Rim's body suddenly chills as the man folds his hands underneath his chin, his expression thoughtful. “I anticipated much greater difficulty in extracting that confession out of you, but it just makes my duties much easier, then.” His gaze darkens as he continues in a tone full of growing irritation, “Tell me one thing. Why in the world did you have to aggravate Tae-Yong- _sshi_ like that? You were always the unassuming one during our lectures; admittedly, I’m quite disappointed in you.”

“You literally just answered your own question, Professor Lee.” The grip on the straps of her backpack tightens as she snaps back, “If I _were_ as unassuming as you say, then there must’ve been something rather severe that forced me to do the unthinkable.”

And then, the realization hits her. “You knew about it, too, didn’t you? His harassment case?”

“What preposterous slander.” And _he’s_ wavering. There’s that guilty quiver Ye-Rim recognizes all too well for it to be falsified. “Are you assuming that I played some part in hiding something that Tae-Yong did?”

Her eyes narrow sharply towards the seemingly carefree lecturer. Watching him sit there, sipping his drink, treating this as if it were no big deal. God, she _loathes_ him. “Your words just did exactly that. You indirectly confirmed that you knew what had happened between a close friend of mine _and_ him. Professor Lee, I just can’t understand why – just _wake up_!”

Tea abandoned and left forgotten, he stands up, his thin lips pursed into a frown on his face. “You’re incredibly rude to be shouting at me – “

“And I’ll shout it as many times as need be,” Ye-Rim interjects, slamming her palms against his desk furiously; the explosive bang that follows soon after leaves the older man’s ears tinging. “Why are you still protecting him?! Why are you brushing this under the rug?!”

Lee Soo-Man averts his stare to the fish tank situated near his bookcase. “I have,” He states, his teeth gritted together. “Absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“That brand-new x-ray diffractometer that we ‘ ** _just_** ’ so happened to receive?” Ye-Rim scoffs, shaking her head. “Don’t you dare disguise it as _yet_ another monetary donation from KRICT. You’ve used that excuse one too many times already.”

“Kim Ye-Rim, that is absolutely – “

“No. It’s not appalling.” Her heart is pounding a mile a second; her t-shirt is clinging to her sweaty backside, almost as if it were melting into her skin, and God only knows how much trouble she’ll find herself in after her outburst. But it's nothing compared to what Soo-Young had to go through on her own. “And nor is it bullshit that I’m making up. It’s a _dirty_ and _amoral_ bribe from his parents so that Soo-Young- _sshi_ 's case would never reach the student government president, and that it’ll be masked. How many more things have Lee Tae-Yong done to escape punishment?”

“Kim Ye-Rim.”

“ ** _Tell_** me!”

At last, that façade he had so carefully crafted crumbles as he weakly sinks into his office chair, covering his face with his hands. What a dramatic 360 rotation. Seeing him like this, Ye-Rim feels the slightest pang of pity, but it quickly retracts when he says timidly, “And what else am I supposed to do?! I had my hands tied.”

 _Seriously_? An adult, putting blame on others for poor decisions? _That’s_ the best he can do as an explanation?

“Sounds to me like you just caved. No, they weren’t holding you at gunpoint, Professor Lee. You could’ve done more to protect your students, but all you’re doing now is basking in the glory of fancy gadgets being added to the laboratory,” Ye-Rim snipes. “Professor Lee, remember what you were hired for. Shouldn’t your number one priority be educating your students and protecting them as they learn in a safe and mentally sound environment?”

“It’s beyond my control, Ye-Rim- _sshi_. Regardless – “ The way he has to take in a heavy breath doesn’t give her a good feeling. “They’re requesting a suspension to your studies, effective this upcoming Friday. Unless you can present some hard evidence that proves otherwise, you’ll follow my instructions accordingly.”

His sudden declaration leaves her baffled, to say the least.

“I don’t want this incident to tarnish the reputation of the chemical engineering faculty, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll do as I say without saying another word.”

 _Was that a threat?_ Holding her breath, the question she intends to ask slips back down her throat. In place, she questions quietly, “Just me?”

“Yes. I know what you’re asking. Jeno and Seung-Hwan will be fine.”

Except, technically, it’s _not_ fine. “Hold on,” Ye-Rim says slowly, holding up her hand in front of the older man’s face. “On what grounds do you even have the right to suspend me? Was this a unanimous decision amongst the faculty?”

“That is not something that can be disclosed – “

“Undisclosed, huh? Oh, I understand. You didn’t even _talk_ to Professor Kim or the other staff members about this, did you? You’re just letting me go, keeping it all hush-hush.”

“I’d advise you to think about your own actions that lead to this point. It didn’t have to be this way.”

“Oh, so my apologies, then!” Ye-Rim cries in an outrage. “ _I’m_ the one who has to be punished for wanting to protect a friend from an immoral bastard?”

The pregnant silence that follows is piercingly hollow. Clearly, he had nothing more to say on the matter.

“Alright,” she says, her feet shuffling until her back hit the knob of the door. “I see how it is. It’s nice to see that your backbone bends so flexibly far _just_ for a little extra cash. How pitiful. Now, if that’s everything that you need to say regarding my alleged suspension, then please excuse me.”

“Ye-Rim- _sshi_. Wait. This discussion is far from over.”

The sharp glare that she delivers in his direction keeps his lips shut as she growls, “Oh, trust me. _I’m_ done listening to _you_. Now, please excuse me, _Professor_ Lee.”

Ye-Rim steps out into the deserted hallway, ensuring to slam the office door loudly behind her when her ears perk up at a taunting call from afar. Even if she were suddenly rendered blind, she would never have any trouble recognizing that awful, _awful_ voice. 

The selfish money-grubber was right. Indeed, it really _was_ far from over.

 

* * *

 

 

“Well, look who it is.” A sneering Lee Tae-Yong deliberately shoulder checks her as she tries to hurry out into the crowded study hall, but she can’t keep up the pace. He follows quickly behind her, yanking her wrist roughly and then proceeds to pull her into the emergency exit stairwell, hidden away from nosy eyes and gossipy mouths. “I definitely enjoyed _that_ show.”

“Don’t give me that shit, Tae-Yong.” Gods, his face – his damn face, blemished in black and blue, is literally just asking for another punch. “And don’t you _dare_ think that I’m just going to give in to your torment. You know me well enough by now:  I am and will _not_  be intimidated by the likes of you.”

Clasping his hands together in slow, sarcastic applause, he chuckles darkly. “I simply _love_ watching how high and mighty you try to portray yourself as when in reality, all you are is just some little girl scared shitless that can’t do anything.”

“What are you even trying to say?”

Had he stopped right there, she wouldn’t have taken his threats that seriously. Except, he adds in a low and gruff whisper, “Let’s say I get your little boyfriend, too. What would you do then? Poor Jeon Jung-Kook, all defenseless and alone on a Friday night.”

Right away, she feels her heart leap out of her chest at Jung-Kook's name. It’s _terrifying_ to hear, and immediately, a flood of questions flushes through her brain as she tries to recall fragmented bits and pieces of memories from that Saturday morning. Where? When? And most importantly, how did he get his name?!

Even worse – the sinister way that he had muttered ‘ _Friday night_ ’. How did he know?

The spirited courage she had just moments before quickly dwindles, and as hard as she tries to muster whatever bravery left to tell him to screw off, her efforts are futile.

Never one to beg for mercy, but here she is now, clutching onto Tae-Yong's sweatshirt in desperation. There’s that detestable crooked smile again, growing wider as the corners of her eyes fill with tears. “D-don’t.”

“It’s a little too late for apologies.” And with that, Tae-Yong pulls away from her feeble grasp, leaving behind Ye-Rim, dazed and incredibly powerless.

She couldn’t protect herself.

And now, she couldn’t protect Jung-Kook, either.

 

* * *

 

 

_What if Kookpa himself got suspended, too? What if I singlehandedly destroyed whatever chance he had to get into law school?!_

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

_Oh, God. What if Tae-Yong finds out where Kookpa lives?_

“I’m very sorry.”

_What if he has him tracked?! Like the spies from IRIS?!_

“Excuse me.”

_What if Tae-Yong tries to hurt Kookpa again?!_

“My apologies.”

These four phrases became ingrained within Ye-Rim's mind for the next hour and a half as she lingered around campus, frantically brainstorming ideas and solutions to the problem at hand. Nevermind the fact that her education was on the line; why would that even _matter_ when Jung-Kook's life was being toyed with like putty? Her phone continued to buzz non-stop in her back pocket, but she was too into her thoughts to pay any attention.

There were times where she _did_ think up something that – theoretically – had some chance of succeeding, but soon after, that tiny ray of hope would fade away once again after she mulled through the details of her plan, leaving her full of dread. Isn’t it enough for Tae-Yong to drag her into this mess?

Well, the answer was obviously not. 

But there _has_ to be a way to overcome this, right? No matter how minuscule the chances of success may be –

Just then, her ringtone – the robotic, trance-like drone of 2NE1’s Come Back Home – blasts through the air, and in a state of panic, she quickly swipes it to pick up the call.

“Yes? W-who is it?” 

“ _Yah_ , Rim. I’ve been looking everywhere for ya.”

 _What the hell?!_ She spins around dizzily, surveying the students zipping past her in their thick parkas, bundled to the brim in colourful mufflers and cozy toques, nobody with recognizable ‘Jung-Kook-esque' traits catches her attention.  “Besides, shouldn’t your first word be hello? Not questioning who the caller is?”

“Wait. Kookpa?”

She can hear the upward curve of his lips as he sings, as if mocking her, “The one and only.”

A temporary flush of relief swarms over her, and she asks, “Are you here? Where are you?”

The answer comes in a series of heavy footsteps that resounds behind her, and a warm, calloused hand sitting atop of her head, flattening down some stray strands sticking up. Dressed in all black, with a beanie and a matching black cotton mask shielding the bottom part of his face from the freezing chill – or perhaps, was that to hide his injuries?

Even with the accessory hiding half of his facial features from view, the way his eyes crinkle delightfully at her signifies a cheerful smile underneath the fabric. Even after such a terrible ordeal, he’s still so optimistic – and happy to see her? It’s a nice feeling, regardless, and her heart warms considerably when he says, “You pipsqueak. I wanted to see how you were doing!”

“You should’ve just gone to class, you dumb kid!” She chides, looking away to hide her pinkish blush. “Who snitched me out?”

“Not that it really matters, Rim-Rim,” Jung-Kook says matter-of-factly. “Just one look at your face and I can already tell you look unwell. Something happened, right?”

Whatever signs of fluster that she displayed previously soon disappears as she says sternly, “I need to talk to you. Just – not here. Can we go somewhere else?”

So instead, he wraps an arm around her shoulder and leads her towards the crowded bus loop, her feet instinctively walking as he urges her forward. “C’mon. Kookpa’s going to take you out for lunch. Tell me then.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jung-Kook calls it ‘ _lunch_ ’, but it’s really more of a therapeutic counselling session for herself. And oh God, does she feel selfish. It wasn’t just because he had offered to pay for her _bibimbap;_ rather, she was fearful of the what-ifs.

The more information she provides, the deeper he’ll become involved – and frankly, it scares her. She doesn’t want that: She doesn’t want to see him lose scholarships and watch his bright future of being a defense lawyer trickle down the drain because of a petty fight with a filthy-rich man child; she doesn’t want to see him disappoint those who held him in high regard –

But most importantly, she doesn’t want to see him hurt again. One beating was more than enough to last a lifetime.

“And Tae-Yong – “ Her voice falters into silence, and Jung-Kook prods her to continue with a tap of his spoon against his bowl.  

“Yeah?” Without turning away from his soup, he says, “I’m listening. Keep going.”

So, she does. Jung-Kook's eyes seem to widen when she mutters about her impending suspension and subsequently, Tae-Yong's threats (Quietly so, as to not arouse suspicion from the other patrons at the restaurant who kept shooting them strange glares every few minutes). But it disappears as quickly as it comes, and Ye-Rim vaguely wonders whether she had mistaken that as a trick of the bright fluorescent lights dangling overhead.

It’s incredible how he, the more endangered one compared to her, still manages to remain so calm. Was this just from practice after dealing with ill-mannered customers every single day? Or was it something ingrained within him since birth? 

Nonetheless, after Ye-Rim finishes her drawn-out spiel, Jung-Kook continues to stay silent with an unreadable expression on his face. He swallows the remaining drops of his soup carefully, brows creased downward.

She speaks first, taking utmost care in choosing her words. “Kookpa. Can you please say _something_? At least, God, I don’t know. You’re being really creepy right now, not saying much. Can you please tell me off or something?”

A single eyebrow quirks upward, followed by a gruff chuckle. “Wow. Ye-Rim, asking me to scold her? What a shock.”

“C’mon, Kookpa!”

“Now, why would I do that?”

“Well, I – “ Ye-Rim stammers, brushing a lock of hair away from her eyes. “I'm the one that got you into trouble.”

“You’re incorrect,” Jung-Kook clarifies with a shake of his head. “I _willingly_ partook in it, and I don’t regret a single thing. So, if you need something to feel guilty over and to apologize to me about, then say sorry for leaving your damn rice cold.”

“But, Jung-Kook- _oppa_ – “

“I’m sorry. I don’t respond to that,” Jung-Kook interrupts, swiftly shoving a spoonful of the crackly rice into her open mouth. While she chews it slowly, he advises kindly, “What’s done is done, Rim. We can’t change a thing about it.”

Swallowing, she immediately suggests going to the police.

“Rim- _ah_ , we don’t have a _shred_ of evidence to back-up our claims that he had threatened to attack you first. And even if Seung-Hwan- _noona_ , Jeno and I pitched in to corroborate your testimony, the police will probably just dismiss it as nothing. I’m certain his family has some well-established connections with them, too. Otherwise, why would he still be walking around like the free man that he is if they knew what he did to Soo-Young _noona_?”

“Ugh. Right.” Just then, her eyes seem to gleam alight with hope as she cries out, “Oh, wait! What about the coffee shop?”

“I went back on Sunday. The manager had promised us to erase the reel, and she did.”

“That’s a – “ Scratching her scalp, she plops her head onto her arms with a pout. “Ugh, right. I forgot about that. What a dumb idea.”

“No, it’s not. Besides, even if she _did_ retain it and we tried to present it to the authorities, it won’t be much help. Actually, it’d be detrimental towards us, too, considering that it would’ve captured our faces and he would’ve used that against us,” Jung-Kook explains, his expression thoughtful. Curling his index finger under his chin, he adds, “So, he knows my name, and he seems to know my workplace. But, sucks for him: Just having those two items is not concrete evidence to put me into trouble with the police or my school. And that’s probably why he’s targeting you, because you two have a direct connection being project partners. I guess you could say you're kind of the uh – ”

She raises a finger at him pointedly. “Do **_NOT_** say glue. I don’t want to associate with that asshole.”

“Catalyst,” he finishes smoothly. “Better?”

“That aside, y-you...” Ye-Rim bites her lip, staring off into the corner before continuing, “You’ll be okay, right?”

“Rim.” Jung-Kook places his hand atop of Ye-Rim's fist, laughing once more. In spite of what had happened thus far, he _still_ manages to find humour in the situation – and almost unconsciously, she, too, joins in with his chortles. It’s unexplainable why, per se, but definitely:  There was nothing more soothing than having him by her side, reassuring her erratic heart. The body heat exuding from his fingers seeps into her own, slowly but surely easing her worries one by one. “That’s _so_ you. You care more about other people than yourself.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?!” Ye-Rim exclaims. “I’m worried about you, you know! Why aren’t you concerned about your own well-being? What if he pops up out of nowhere, just to hurt you?!”

“Well then,” Jung-Kook replies with a casual shrug. “I’ll just have to learn some form of self-defense to hurt him back before Friday evening, don’t I?”

She catches sight of a gleaming twinkle, shining deep within his brown eyes when he says this, but it fades soon after when Jung-Kook clasps his hands together to enthusiastically order a _haemul pajeon_ for them to share.

Ye-Rim dismisses it as another optical illusion as they continue their meal in comfortable silence, and although there’s a part of her – slight as it may be – warning her to grow suspicious and question him, she doesn’t try to squeeze an answer out of him.

Instead, she probes as casually as she can, “You were just kidding about working on Friday, right?”

To which he responds airily, with an air of arrogance that fools her temporarily, “You think I’m willing to get my neck hacked off by a psychopathic _chaebol_ after he’s specified a time and place for my murder? No fucking thanks!”

And then she can’t help but wonder during her transit back to her apartment, did he lie to her?

 

* * *

 

 

 _To:  Nam-Joonie-hyung_  
_Sent At:  3:26 P.M._

_Hey, Joonie-hyung._

_To:  Kookie_  
_Sent At:  3:41 P.M._

_You need something?_

_To:  Nam-Joonie-hyung_  
_Sent At:  4:01 P.M._

_Yes. And ASAP. I need some of your equipment, too._

_To: Kookie_  
_Sent At: 4:03 P.M._

_Not to pry into your personal affairs, Kook, but you sound awfully serious about this._

_To: Nam-Joonie-hyung_  
_Sent At:  4:05 PM._

_Not trying to scare ya, but it’s kind of a life and death matter._

“Hello?”

“Damnit, Kook.” Agitated and frustrated: Two adjectives that Jung-Kook would never describe his elder, but that’s precisely what his voice conveyed. “This is starting to get serious. Just now, there were a few scummy-looking idiots coming in, asking about you, and they terrified Chae-Young and that part-time high schooler shitless. Is this related to Ye-Rimmie? What are you planning?”

A ten-minute explanation later, and Nam-Joon feels his insides freezing.

“Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound? Yoongi is going to fucking cuss you out. I can guarantee it. Here’s the thing, Kook. Are you even _certain_ that it’ll work?”

The younger man takes a stilted pause. And then, a deflated confession emerges from his lips. “...No, I’m not. And to be perfectly honest with you, Joonie- _hyung_ , I’m scared.”

“Fuck. Are you even listening to yourself, Kook? Nobody wants to see you get hurt. Hell, as the manager, I have half the heart to take you _off_ this job and force you into hiding until next year, do you hear me? Don’t do anything reckless! I mean it!”

“But there’s no other way.”

“Think about this, Kook. How would we feel? Hell, how would Ye-Rimmie feel knowing that – ?”

“Don’t you get it, _hyung_? It’s precisely because Rim is involved that I need to help regardless. She’s getting suspended. Her future is at stake. I can’t just sit back and watch when she’s wrongly accused of something that could jeopardize everything that she’s worked so hard for. Just – please listen to me, and don’t question.”

“But Jung-Kook- _ah_ – “

There’s no doubting his resolve. “I’m willing to take this risk.”

“...Alright. Okay. Only because I trust you.”

“Thanks. I owe ya.”

And the phone clicks off with a droning beep.

 

* * *

 

 

You know those moments where you live out the remains of your day without actually accomplishing anything, because your mind is too, too worried about other things?

Yeah. That’s _exactly_ how Ye-Rim felt.

The next few days blaze by for her in a messy, jumbled blur as she went through the motions of her day like a robot programmed on one repetitive cycle of eating, sleep and transit. She does try to keep up her studies and stay busy, even though it’s fruitless to do so as the dreadful Friday looms overhead, but that’s not the reason why she kept behaving as if her head was in the clouds.

When she arrived on campus on Tuesday morning, she went into class with a newfound sense of discomfort. That feeling of being watched was impalpably unnerving as she carefully walked down the steps and into her favourite aisle in the lecture hall; some students dramatically gasped, ‘ _She still has the nerve to show her face here!_ ’ while others delivered scornful gazes of disdain from all directions.

Automatically, she knew with her heart sinking deep into her stomach:  The news of her suspension had swept through the faculty like a tsunami wave. Somehow, _someone_ – Tae-Yong, no doubt about it – had ‘ _accidentally let it slip_ ’.

See, the thing is, Ye-Rim isn’t ashamed. The gossip-mongers can say whatever they want behind her back. All that matters are that the people she cared about believed in her truth.  But damn, did it sting when her favourite professor failed to meet her eyes when she approached the tiny woman for clarification, and all she received was an awkward dismissal instead.

Her friends definitely attempted to help mitigate the situation – and Ye-Rim was appreciative of their efforts, nonetheless. The empathetic Seulgi tries to cheer her up by suggesting an impromptu café hop with Soo-Young and Seung-Hwan, and Joo-Hyun ends up dropping by her apartment Tuesday night to bring her bubble tea and discreetly brings up the option that she’s ‘ _down for an hour-long chat if she was up to it._ ’

But really, she thinks to herself after saying good-bye to the fatigued older woman and presses her back against the closed door afterward, the only form of emotional support that could truly put her worries at ease was the knowledge that Jung-Kook was okay.

Call it a woman’s intuition or a hyperactive gut feeling, but Ye-Rim simply couldn’t shake off the horrible sense of dread brewing within her insides, twisting and turning with worry. It couldn’t be dampened with distractions; rather, trying to occupy her mind with other things had amplified it even _further_.

Case in point:  Wednesday evening. She barely got through a page in her textbook. Instead, she has her focus concentrated on her Facebook chat bar, just to see if Jung-Kook was online and when his ‘Last Active’ status was.

It’s a stupid idea, she knows, but at least it’s _something_ , right?

Surprisingly enough, Jung-Kook was quite receptive to her worries – perhaps he had picked up on it during their hour-long lunch. He made it a habit to send her hourly text messages and blurry snapshots. Her camera roll has started to grow full of thick and ridiculous-looking double chins and platters of _tteokbokki._  

 _To: Kookpa_  
_Sent At: 9:21 P.M._

_Yah. Whatcha doing?_

His replies were almost instantaneous.

 _To: Rim_  
_Sent At: 9:23 P.M._

_I’m at home. What do you think? I’m fine, don’t worry._

_‘Don’t worry’._ He’s typed that at least fifty times in the past few days. But that’s precisely the problem: He can say this as many times as he wants, but –

Glancing at his profile, she heaves yet another sigh. How can she _not_? 

 

* * *

 

 

Friday mornings were generally Ye-Rim's favourite time of the week.

She didn’t have any lectures to attend, and being blessed with so much free time, she normally caught up with domestic duties (A la, shopping for groceries for the week) or got a head start on her readings for her classes at one of her favourite coffee shops near the supermarket that she has grown to love.

Albeit, she thinks to herself whilst loading a pile of soggy wet clothes into the dryer, she wouldn’t have a favourite day any longer starting Monday. She wouldn’t be attending classes anymore; every day of the week would be heaven, wouldn’t it?

_(Sarcasm intended)._

So instead, Ye-Rim decides to do something else.

The supermarket is packed with people of all ages today. There’s an aging grandmother requesting help from a gangly, freckled boy; a young mother, sighing at the meats section as her toddler wailed miserably for a candy bar ( _“I DON’T WANNA EAT GROUND BEEEEEF!”_ ); students – female high schoolers, to be precise – skipping class with their skirts suspiciously short. A few seem apprehensive, almost shy whilst clutching their tiny purchases, glancing over at the cash register. Another girl, blessed with model-like proportions and a face so small it would’ve 9Muses’ Kyungri to shame, paced between the aisles in an agitated manner. 

 _Ah_ , Ye-Rim realizes at last. While her kneejerk reaction would’ve been to start fuming in jealousy, she finds herself giggling uncontrollably. “Kookpa’s fan club, huh?”

“Absolutely correct.” A voice confirms in her ear, startling Ye-Rim. She nearly drops her packages onto the ground but manages to catch herself in time. When she whirls around, she’s suddenly blinded by a beautiful, kind grin.

It’s Park Chae-Young – no, _Rosé_. Sparkling bubbly ‘Champagne Girl’ Rosé, with her thin hands resting on her hips and flowing hair pinned back into a fashionable half-ponytail. Hiding just a few feet away were a group of good-looking high school male students, _‘examining’_ the ingredients list for _bulgogi_ marinade. Huh, it seems as though Chae-Young, too, has her fair share of admirers. No surprises there.

“Hey there, Ye-Rimmie! I haven’t seen you in a while!”

Too stunned by the young woman’s simple beauty to speak (And the fact that she addressed her so informally at their second meeting, too! It should be illegal for Aussies to be _this_ bubbly and outgoing), she ends up blinking for a few long moments before stuttering stupidly, “I uh, I think you’re the only one who can be caught dead in that and still look good.”

“Well, that wasn’t the greeting I was expecting,” Rosé admits, running a hand through the ends of her hair. “But anyway! I digress! It's nice to see you.”

The older woman’s demeanor breaks through Ye-Rim's self-conscious shell, and she returns with the same amount of enthusiasm, “Yes, it is! Uh, have you been well?”

“I have.” Glancing at Ye-Rim knowingly, she adds quietly, “I heard you haven’t been, though. Is that right?”

Chagrined, Ye-Rim palms her forehead. _Damn fucking Kookpa. He might as well alert the church elders while he’s at it._

“It’s okay,” Rosé consoles, placing her hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. Squeezing gently, she suggests, “Hey. I’m actually heading out for my break right now. Since you’re quite free, would you like to grab something to eat together? There’s a waffle truck just a block away.”

“Oh! Um, sure – I guess!”

Too caught up with Rosés’ spontaneity, Ye-Rim nods. And as they exit the store together, she misses the sly, dark-clothed figure standing at the end of aisle seven, observing the pair carefully.

A sinister, wicked smile is masked underneath the oversized hoodie.

 

* * *

 

 

“If you’re not careful, Rosé- _unni_ , I may very well kidnap you just so that you can stay here forever.”

“Oh, Ye-Rim, you’re funny. Unfortunately, I miss my kangaroos too much to live in Korea for the long-term.” The older woman takes a bite of her treat – three scoops of rocky road ice-cream sandwiched between two liege waffles – and hums in pleasure. “But I will say, damn, I am going to miss these when I return home.”

It’s funny how things turn out.

Just some weeks ago, Ye-Rim saw this attractive girl as a potential rival for Jung-Kook's affections. She, in all her five-foot-six glory, was the very source behind the younger woman’s jealousy, and it seemed unfathomable at the time that they could ever sit together and make polite small talk.

And now, here they are, sharing waffle sandwiches as if they were the best of friends. Okay, so maybe not _‘the best of friends’_. That was pushing it, but at least they were on better terms than just regular acquaintances.

Speaking to Rosé provided Ye-Rim with a comforting solace because unlike her other friends, she didn’t jump the gun and immediately try to offer good-intentioned advice. Nor did she chastise her when Ye-Rim recounted her discussion with Professor Lee to her. She listened – she _really_ listened, nodding here and there during Ye-Rim's spiel, interjecting every now and then with a _‘hmm’_ and _‘I see’_.

And by the time she was finished, Rosé only says shakily, “I’m so... _so_ sorry you had to go through that.” Her dark-brown eyes conveyed true sympathy, and the brief silence that followed spoke of a mutual understanding between the two. “While I did get the general gist from Jung-Kookie, I didn’t realize how severe the situation was.”

“Nah, it’s okay. There are way too many innocent people involved already as is,” Ye-Rim says, waving away Rosé’s concerns.

“Are you scared?”

 _Good question._ “Scared doesn’t even describe half of what I’m feeling, Rosé- _unni_.”

“Oh, Ye-Rim...”

“But I think I need to clarify one thing,” Ye-Rim explains curtly. “I’m not actually scared for myself. That jackass can do whatever he wishes to me, but knowing that he’s out for Kookpa’s blood – “ Her voice trails off as she shakes her head, averting her gaze towards a flock of ducks wobbling across the grass of the quaint park they were sitting in.

“Mm, I get it. Rather you than him, right?”

“I was too hot-tempered,” she admits sheepishly. “I’ve had the last three days to think it over. My actions, I mean. Honestly, this was an avoidable problem. Had I not said anything, then Kookpa wouldn’t be in this mess. I wouldn’t be suspended. And sure, I’ll be peeved and pissed for the rest of the semester, but at least we’ll both be safe.”

“Arguable,” Rosé agrees slowly, folding her hands together. “But, that’s not you, is it? The Ye-Rim that Jung-Kookie wholeheartedly admires wouldn’t back down from standing up for what she believes in now, would she?”

“But what good does _that_ do if it’s doing more harm than good?” Ye-Rim argues crossly, only to feel remorse weighing down heavily on her shoulders when Rosé flinches at her bitterness. “S-sorry. I know I shouldn’t be this upset, but – “

“Your actions are valid, Ye-Rim," Rosé says firmly, scrunching up her empty plastic wrapper. “You believed in your own values and your own truth. And it’s not an easy thing to do. I can only hope that if others were put into a similar problem like yours that they, too, wouldn’t waver and be swayed by outside influences. It’s human nature to look for the easy way out. Often times, money or power does just that – but you know what? It’s absolute cowardice.”

Rosé’s pep talk leaves Ye-Rim – _stunned_. All this time, she’s viewed this quality of hers as a negative attribute. Yet, the wise woman managed to turn it around and make it a compliment. She’s never looked at it in that perspective before. “You know, I always thought that it was a turn-off. Not many people like a girl that defiant.”

“True, but I’d pick you over someone who bows down at the sight of money. Don’t worry, Ye-Rim. We’ve got your back,” Rosé laughs, patting Ye-Rim on the cheek. “You can lean on us:  Nam-Joon, Yoongi, me, your friends, and your number one supporter.”

The gaze she sends Rosé is questioning. “You mean to say...?”

“Not many people would intercept a fight, much less throw a punch, unless they truly cared for that one person. If you know what I mean.” Pausing, Rosé glances up into the cloudy skies above and stretches her arms into the air. Through the dense carpet of gray threatening to blanket the streets with cold powder, a tiny ray of sunlight struggles to seep through, bringing about a faint warmth that spreads across the yellowing patch of grass. 

There's no denying the fact that Jung-Kook and Ye-Rim were fighting a losing battle for now; even with Jung-Kook's plan in action, the prospect of a favorable outcome seemed zero to none.

Yet, instinct tells her otherwise. _Yes_ , it’s disadvantageous, but there’s a flicker of hope out there somewhere. It might not be very strong, but even if it were something low like 0.05%, she’ll take it.

Besides, these two dumb idiots still need to settle their indisputable feelings for one another properly. There’s no way that God would be so vicious as to tear them apart after so much.

(And as petty as this may sound, she worked _too damn hard_ on that flyer to let it go to waste!)

And so, thumbing the tiny sterling silver cross hiding underneath her collared shirt, she whispers a quick prayer that everything will resolve as it should.

_I’m so sorry, Ye-Rim. I wish I could tell you; it **kills** me that I can’t. But you’ll just have to believe in Jung-Kookie for the time being. Please, trust him._

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been a busy week for Jeon Jung-Kook.

He’s been preparing for his upcoming examinations in complete solitude at the grocery store with the 24/7 K-Pop radio station blasting out the latest hits (And came to the conclusion that it was much too loud to hear Nam-Joon's static stammering in his hidden earpiece), finishing up last-minute assignments and papers – only for Yoongi to tell him off from the safety of his laptop set-up a few miles away that he had spelled a few words wrong (Derisively so), and convincing both a reluctant Yoongi and an overly-concerned Chae-Young that _‘it had to be done’_.

The latter task, Jung-Kook encountered the most difficulty. Despite Yoongi’s seemingly uncaring and indifferent nature, he was absolutely livid when the younger man had proposed his plan.    

“Kook- _ah_ ,” Yoongi hissed, grasping the younger man on his shoulders to shake him fervidly. “You fucking numbskull. Are you out of your damn mind?”

But seeing the unperturbed determination burning ferociously in Jung-Kook's eyes, the older redhead knew that there was no stopping him when he had his mind made up; all he could do – as a work colleague, but most importantly, as a close friend and his confidant – was to provide support where it was needed.

So now, with the hour hand ticking close to two o’clock in the morning, Jung-Kook booms enthusiastically to the semi-drunk office worker, “Thank-you for your purchase!” and hands the smelly drunkard his six-pack of beer. “We hope to see you again!”

The patron shambles out of the store, waving his hand flimsily in the air. And once he disappears from view, Jung-Kook steps out of the booth, unties his apron and tosses it onto the dusty countertop. Pretending to rearrange the stack of untouched newspapers, he mutters without moving his lips too much, “How’s it looking, _hyung_? Do you see anybody out there?”

Yoongi’s raspy complaint resounds deep within his ear as he says tiredly, “Joon- _ah_ , you shouldn’t have gone cheap. The image is too grainy for my eyes. I’m an old man, y’know.”

“Damnit, _hyung_ , you don’t think I tried? I’m not made of money!”

“In any case,” Yoongi continues, ignoring the managers’ irate grumbling. God damn, sitting in this near-empty café watching real-time footage was no fun at all. “As far as I can tell, there isn’t a soul out there. No cars. No groups of people waiting to jump you.” And then, he pauses before stating bluntly, “Look. We know for a fact that the asshole hired some people to poke around for information about you earlier this week during the day. We didn’t say it explicitly, but they _have_ to know you’d be here tonight. I don’t know how much more direct we need to be about this.”

Nam-Joon laughs humorlessly. “Maybe a sign needs to be pasted against the door. ‘PLEASE ATTACK ME. THE CASH REGISTER IS FULL OF MONEY.’”

Noting the subdued, prolonged silence, he adds quickly, “Y-yes, that’s not very funny.”

Jung-Kook presses a finger against his tightened jaw. “The last thing I want is for them to give up on finding me. They _need_ to have taken the bait.”

“Kook, no offense to you, but don’t you feel like you’re underestimating that dick’s intelligence?” Yoongi asks. “And let’s say, if they _do_ come here tonight, are you expecting Tae-Yong with them? The perpetrator would never commit the deed himself, as I’m sure you’re aware from all those crime shows that you watch.”

“No,” Jung-Kook responds, rearranging a row of canola oil jars in aisle three whilst keeping a watchful eye for any sign of movement. Having worked at this supermarket for so long, it’s only now that he realized:  He’s gotten too accustomed to having Nam-Joon and Yoongi’s physical presence. The silence, the lack of snoring from his security guard companion – it's eerie to be here alone tonight. “As cringy as this might sound, he needs to ‘exact his revenge’ on me. Attacking me here, while I’m defenseless, would be the only way that he can achieve that. He’s too used to getting what he wants.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Yoongi demands. “Why in the fuck are you so nonchalant about this to the point that you have time to make soup cans look pretty?”

“As I’m slowly waiting for my murder, I’d like to make use of this sacred time to be contributing some good deed to the supermarket.”

“Kook, don’t fucking say bullshit like that.”

“It’s true, though!”

“Indeed. There you are, delivering yourself straight into his clutches. Y’know, Kook.” There’s a hint of admiration to Nam-Joon's voice when he says, “I never realized, but even I have to admit:  You’re a pretty noble guy to risk your life for Ye-Rimmie's sake.”

“I’d call it stupidity,” Yoongi chimes in. “But I’ll leave that for another day. Alright. I’ll continue to keep an eye out for – “

Just then, his voice crackles into a piercing noise of static. Wincing at the belching high-pitched squeal blasting through his ear canal, Jung-Kook nearly rips the earpiece out. The older man’s voice returns, and he manages to pick up a few curse words here and there, and something that sounded horribly reminiscent of a choke.

And then – to Jung-Kook and Nam-Joon's utter horror – dead silence.

“Joonie- _hyung,”_ Jung-Kook whispers, bolting towards the entrance. The door swings open, and he bursts straight into the cold air, whipping at his exposed arms as he observes the dimly-lit pedestrian sidewalk.  The pathway to Ye-Rim's apartment complex – nothing. The other way – also nothing. He doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or anxious. “Are you okay?”

Jung-Kook returns to the supermarket with wary, shaky footsteps and a heart pumping at an erratic pace. But something – something doesn’t feel right, anymore. His body freezes immediately; he doesn’t dare move any closer.

All of a sudden, he feels a terrifying chill spread through his spine. Something definitely does not seem right here. That feeling of being spied on – it’s unmistakably prevalent. He's sensing it now from all directions, and it definitely wasn’t from the surveillance cameras, either.

Nam-Joon's crackly whisper – signs that their connection was deteriorating – resounds in Jung-Kook's ear weakly. “Lost - can you – oh, God. Kook – everything’s going whack!”

“You don’t need to tell me twice – ”

And without any warning, Jung-Kook's terrorizing scream of agony rings through Nam-Joon's microphone, followed with a booming thud, as if he had just fallen to his knees.

“Kook!”

He barely registers the tiny blip on the surveillance camera footage – it looked like a masked figure, alongside a metal pipe in his clutches, maybe (Hopefully, _Jesus Christ_ ) – before it blinks for a split second and fades into nothing but pure black afterward.

“ ** _Shit_**!” Swiping his mobile phone, he hurriedly dials Yoongi’s number. “God, Yoongi. Not you, too, okay?!”

Beads of sweat drip down his temple as the persistent ringing continues for what felt like forever before a click is heard, and then – Yoongi's panicked shouting.

“Dude, I’m fine! I lost connection, but I caught it! Someone’s there!”

“I saw it, too. We need to go.”

“...No police yet, huh?”

“Fuck. I – we just need to trust Jung-Kookie. In any case, meet me there!”

“Roger that.”

 

* * *

 

 

Two-ten in the morning. And once again, Ye-Rim has not yet fallen asleep. _Any_ normal person would’ve been tucked within their blankets peacefully, dreaming of flowers and rainbows and handsome princes or beautiful princesses awaiting rescue.

Instead, she sits at the foot of her bed wide awake and alert, refreshing the Facebook chat bar every few seconds with a swipe of her finger.

 _Jeon Jung-Kook_  
_Last Active:_   _5 hours._  

That’s exactly how it had been for the past few days as well. And while this should’ve confirmed that his words were truthful, she just couldn’t help it. On one hand, _maybe_ she _is_ starting to grow paranoid and _maybe_ she’s just thinking the worst-case scenario. Perhaps Tae-Yong had a change of heart?

 _God._ Ye-Rim places her phone against her forehead, exhausted. _If only things were that simple._ _This isn’t Persona 5._

The growing suspicion that he was lying to her all this time continues to gnaw at her, plaguing her with restless nights of sleep like there was no tomorrow. Technically, it’s a simple problem with an even easier solution. All she needs to do is make that brief walk down to the supermarket to see for herself. Why is she still hesitating?

All of a sudden, her phone buzzes violently within her grasp. Who in their right mind would be calling someone in the dead of the night?

_Kookpa_

Eyes widening, she drops her mobile onto the floor with a noisy clatter. Wait. _W-what?_   Still too startled to react, she lets the phone drone on with Sandara Park’s ‘ _Come, baby baby, come, come_ ’ until it shuts off, leaving behind a spine-chilling silence that descended upon her like a blanket. 

_Something’s wrong.  Something is totally wrong._

And then without giving it another thought, she hurriedly pulls on her coat and shoes, slamming her apartment door quickly behind her. The noisy elevator jolts the sleepy apartment manager to a foggy awakening, but all he can register through his bleary eyes was Ye-Rim's retreating back and her recognizable blonde hair flying behind her. 

 

* * *

 

 

Sixteen of them. Seventeen, including Tae-Yong, pacing around the battered, heaving Jung-Kook with something that vaguely resembled a pistol in his hands. He’s not sure; he’s too winded from the blow to focus. Either way – whatever it was – the lightweight, unassuming design ultimately belied its strength, as Tae-Yong had walloped him around the head and sent a near-delirious Jung-Kook crashing headfirst into a nearby metal shelf.

“Get up.”

A vicious, powerful kick into the tailbone was enough to infuriate the younger man even more, and Tae-Yong had watched the altercation with gleeful eyes, evading Jung-Kook's fists, swinging blindly. _How pathetic._ Albeit, it’s a rather amusing show. He’s putting up a great fight against his assailants, throwing off a few whilst disarming several of their weapons.

But defeating four of them won’t do. Others came to their defense easily, threatening to stab Jung-Kook with their pocket knives. A fair few carried blunt hunting knives, strapped to their belt loops, and one rough-looking thug had attempted to bludgeon him by striking his slim but deadly military baton at his face – only to narrowly miss.

Bruised, bleeding and aching all over, Jung-Kook sucks in a deep breath heavily.

He’s losing his strength; there’s just absolutely no way that he can fight against all of them.

One wrong move on his end, and he’ll meet his demise sooner than expected. Bleak as the situation was, it’s undeniable:  He’s outmatched in both strength _and_ manpower.

But perhaps he can stall the situation if he plays his cards right. He just – he just needs more time.

_Please, God. Give me more time._

And so, that’s exactly what he’ll do.

Tae-Yong lunges forward and grabs a fistful of Jung-Kook's hair, throwing him to the side like a pitiful rag doll. The younger man’s head is thudding rhythmically with sharp pain, unmatched to anything else that he’s experienced in the past. There’s a familiar metallic-scented liquid in the quiet air, trailing down the nape of his neck as he struggles to get back to his feet, his head spinning from the assault.

His vision is starting to fog up, drifting woozily in and out of the darkness. Oh, God. He’s so close to passing out. So, _so_ close.

But he knows that he absolutely _can’t_. Because if he did, it’s game over. They would lose.

And to lose to the likes of Lee Tae-Yong? _Fuck that shit, there are much nobler ways to die._

“Got nothing to say anymore, hmm?” Tae-Yong taunts mockingly, pressing the nuzzle of the gun against the side of Jung-Kook's head. And then, hauling him by the arm, he forces the injured man up onto his feet and delivers a powerful jab against his ribcage, throwing him against a nearby table. The momentum knocks the wind out of the younger man, and a strangled cry emerges from the base of his throat. The vertigo intensifies, as does the rhythmic pounding, growing incessantly intense with each passing second. Clinging onto the edge for support, he snarls angrily, “T-that’s the best y-you can do, Lee Tae-Yong?”   

“You know, I’m actually surprised that you didn’t pass out right then and there,” The older man says with a hint of fake admiration. “I myself enjoy challenges.”

“D-don’t be stupid,” Jung-Kook snaps in reply.  “You, render me unconscious? That’s the funniest joke I’ve heard in a while – **_ah_**!”

The piece of black rubber comes flying out of nowhere, thwacking him directly against his shoulder. A crimson-red stain blossoms into the fabric of his shirt, but it’s not the wound that has him concerned: It’s the searing pang that sets his entire chest burning, almost as if he were caught in an excruciating fire.

He needs to keep moving, even if the sensation is urging him to stop.   

“No. You know what an even funnier joke is?” Resting in Tae-Yong's grip – much to Jung-Kook's dismay – was his mobile phone. Spinning it around in his fingers like a top, he adds slowly, “I didn‘t know that bitch lived around this area, too.”

At the mention of ‘her’, Jung-Kook instantly freezes. “W-what, what did you do?!”

“Just wanted her to have first-row seats to the show.” Tae-Yong cranes his head to the side, tapping the muzzle against the counter threateningly. “Ah, you know what? I should probably stop calling her that name. She _hates_ it, doesn’t she? Yeah, it’s the one that you so lovingly call – hey.” Turning his attention to a bulky, well-built roughneck, he questions, “What was that again?”

To which the thug clears his throat and states, “Rim. She was here earlier today.”

Jung-Kook's heart sinks. _Shit._

“Ah, that’s right! ‘ _Rim_ ’.”

Jung-Kook steps forward slowly, his back hunched over with a pained expression on his face with each step he advances, but before he can move further, another forceful whip slams against his back, and he keels over onto the dirty floor.

He can taste it now: The blood clogging the back of his throat.  Spitting it out, he screams hoarsely, “Don’t you fucking say her name!”

And then, an unbearable twinge shoots up his arm like rapidly firing bullets as Tae-Yong stomps his foot against Jung-Kook's hand, crushing his digits into the plastic laminate floor and relishing at the agonizing yell combined with the crackling _snap-snap_ of his fractured bones that leaves the younger man’s mouth.

“ ** _Agh_**!”

“Oh, if only you could see yourself now,” Tae-Yong says airily, photographing Jung-Kook's pitiful state with glee. Jung-Kook's read this many time:  How sadistic abusers tend to find pleasure by inflicting pain on others. How fucked up must Tae-Yong be to do this without a _single ounce of remorse_? The younger man could never comprehend. “I guess you’re not as important to her as you originally thought, huh?”

“H-how would you know?” Jung-Kook snaps, grabbing hold of Tae-Yong's leg in a vice-like grip, only to be kicked to his side, numbed and paralyzed. Still, he refuses to let go. “Y-you don’t know a single thing about caring for other people, you heartless monster!”

“I _did_ want her to see this to the very end, but I guess I’ll just have to send her these photos as a little parting gift on my own. Now, what would you like? I’ll be merciful, Jung-Kook- _sshi_.” Squatting down, Tae-Yong grabs hold of Jung-Kook's chin His _entire face_ is so swollen and bruised to the point that he’s virtually unrecognizable at this point. What an awful sight –

 _He_ _loves this_. This sense of control; this amount of incredible power, manipulating someone’s life into doing whatever he pleased. Yes. _That’s exactly how it should be in the first place._ “Knife? Or gun? My weapon’s itching to fire, you know.”

Jung-Kook laughs:  A hollow, empty chortle completely drained of any emotion. “You know something, Lee Tae-Yong? I – I take it back. You _are_ smart. You _are_ quick-witted. You bypassed the surveillance system that we had installed. You did it all.”

“A little too late for apologies, aren’t we?”

“Oh, but – “ Jung-Kook continues lowly, his head dropping to his chest. “I wasn‘t finished. I’m _close_ to being impressed.”

Tae-Yong raises a suspicious eyebrow. Eyes narrowing with his hand resting dangerously against the trigger, he repeats cautiously, “ _Close_?”

“You wanted an audience, didn’t you?” Jung-Kook asks, his voice growing louder. “You _fool_.” 

“...What’d you say?”

Jung-Kook doesn’t say respond. Instead, he shakily gestures to a minuscule black device - no bigger than the size of a Starburst – clipped sturdily to the neckline of his shirt. Unless one truly looked, it was virtually left undetectable.

Colour immediately drains off Tae-Yong's face, and the hand gripping the gun starts to tremor uncontrollably. It’s a dangerous situation fraught with peril, to be kneeling face-to-face with an untrained gunman who looks on the verge of having a mental breakdown.

But it’s now or never. No turning back. 

“You may have the police under your rich fingers,” Jung-Kook growls, slowly getting to his feet. His eyes, burning with a wild, voracious fire, never leave Tae-Yong's, now swimming in fear. “But guess what? You now have an audience of ten thousand viewers from AfreecaTV, playing witness to your atrocities, you deplorable jackass.”

The muzzle of the gun presses even firmer against Jung-Kook’s forehead, digging deep into the younger man’s skin. “Shut up!”

“And you, unlocking my phone? Well, you just invited the authorities over and they’re on the way. Congratulations, you just played yourself. Better get that testimony ready.”

Amidst the panicked shouts behind them and the sounds of metal pipes and bats being tossed to the floor in a futile attempt to escape, Tae-Yong screams, “SHUT UP!”

 _Just a little more._ “It’s over, Lee Tae-Yong. You won’t get away that easily, even with rich mommy and daddy hiring the best lawyer to defend your case.”

Tae-Yong flounders backward, squeezing his eyes together whilst clamping both hands over his ears. The gun aims towards the ceilings, and he fires two accidental shots into the crumbling tiles. “ ** _SHUT THE FUCK UP!_** ”

 _And – now!_ With whatever remaining strength Jung-Kook had saved for this moment, he makes a courageous lunge for the frightened man’s legs, wrapping his arms around them. Together, they topple over like domino pieces, and he falls flat onto his back with a loud **_bang_**.

Except, the pistol is accidentally thrown into the air from the momentum of his fall, and Jung-Kook watches as it precariously lands in –

_No!_

As if all nerve had suddenly returned, the fearless Tae-Yong barks a menacing order at the indifferent thug, too stupefied to react. “WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? DO IT! SHOOT!”

“YOU HAVE A WHOLE LIFE AHEAD OF YOU! DON’T DO SOMEONE THAT YOU’LL REG – “ Jung-Kook's warning is suddenly cut short when Tae-Yong kicks his shoe into the younger man’s jaw, once again leaving his mouth full of blood. “ _TCH_!”

Automatically, the murderous weapon is pointed in Jung-Kook's direction once more, targeted squarely in between his eyes.

“SAY GOOD-BYE, JEON JUNG – !“

His heart pounds once. Twice. Three times. _Is this the end?_

“NOT IF I CAN HELP IT!”

Jung-Kook can’t – no, _doesn’t_ want to believe his eyes – but barreling straight into the burly man with her hand clasped tightly around the heavy-duty broom was the last person he had expected to pop in.

Not Yoongi.

Not even Nam-Joon.

 

* * *

 

 

He’s in utter disbelief when he splutters, “ _R-Rim_?! W-when did you get – ?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Raising it into the air, she strikes the pointy bristles at his hand, forcing him to disarm the weapon. Once it clatters to the ground noisily, she hurriedly kicks it aside and then, mercilessly delivers blow by blow at the taller man’s face. Her victim attempts to grab hastily at the handle of the broom, but Ye-Rim wrenches it away with a certain strength that Jung-Kook has never witnessed before, her eyes glinting ferociously as she continues to smack the aggressor with nothing but pure hostility and a desire to hurt. “Fucker! Don’t you ever come near him ever again!”

“There! There he is, officer! Kook!”

Right on cue, Nam-Joon and Yoongi sprint into the supermarket to join the fray, followed by a group of armed police officers, barking instructions into the air.

“FREEZE! HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!”

And relief – a warm and comforting flush – washes over the weakened Jung-Kook as he sinks his head into his forearm tiredly.  It’s over.

It’s finally over. “Good fucking God.”

 

* * *

 

 

Kneeling beside Jung-Kook, Nam-Joon examines Jung-Kook's injuries with pitiful eyes. “Oh, my God. We need to get Jung-Kook to the hospital right away. Just – oh, Jesus. Look at the poor kid. They’ve bashed his shoulder in. Kook, can you – can you get up?”

Jung-Kook doesn’t even have the energy to respond with anything other than a groan.

“Not only that,” Yoongi comments, wrapping his arm around the younger mans’ waist to provide him with some support. “I just hope that he doesn’t have a concussion. We need to get you out of here as soon as possible.” 

“N-no, d-don't w-worry,” Jung-Kook reassures tiredly, his wounded knees buckling underneath his weight.  “R-Rim? Rim, where?”

“It's okay, Kookpa! I – I got you!” As the blonde rushes towards him eagerly with open arms, he follows suit, pulling away from the two men as he shambles towards her limply.

“She uh – _yah_ , Kook! You can’t be walking away on your own! _Aish_!”

“D-don’t give a f-fuck!”

And with a goofy, lighthearted grin settled on his face, he collapses into the tiny girls’ embrace. She catches him just in the nick of time, and as awkward as it may have been to share such an intimate moment with spectators, he feels all of his troubles and worries evaporate into thin air as he nestles his head against the crook of her neck.

Nothing has ever felt more comfortable than this moment.

“O-oh, Kookpa.” Rubbing her hand against his back soothingly, she stammers, “You’ve helped me once again. I – why?”

“C-crap. S’rry. Got b-blood. Your shirt.”  

“Even now.” Her voice interrupts with a quiet chuckle. “Even now. You _still_ worry about me when you’re the one in the worse state. I don’t get you. I really don’t fucking get you, Kookpa. _Why_?”

“Y-your – “

Pulling him tighter against her, she asks expectantly, “Yeah?”

“Angry face. I don’t like. T-too cute.”

And at last, Ye-Rim realizes. 

Jung-Kook might not tell her today. And perhaps, even after he recovers, he may never tell her.

But, that’s okay. Actions spoke _much_ louder than words. And for her, seeing him in such a state:  With his energy running low; with his consciousness drifting hazily back and forth between reality and darkness; with the purplish bruises decorating his skin; with the open gashes, and dark patches of blood crusting on every visible surface imaginable; with the fractures poking deep into the muscles of his body –

To endure through such traumatic tribulations, _just_ for her. It already exposed everything that he had kept hidden within his heart.

Caressing his hair gently, she whispers affectionately, “You are so damn stupid, you _dumb duck_.”

To which he responds with an exhausted “... _Quack._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know there may be some people who might be confused as to how and why Ye-Rim showed up so late. The thing is, she actually snuck in! She may be a bit reckless at times, but even she knows when to hold her horses as to not further worsen the situation - but it worked in their favour, anyway! 
> 
> Their final words are kind of a tribute to Chapter 5. Remember how Jung-Kook and Ye-Rim were growing jealous over Chae-Young and Yoongi, and Jung-Kook had insulted her with 'dumb duck'? Well, here she is now, flinging it back at him - and no matter what, he still wants to maintain that chemistry with her. :3 
> 
> Hope you liked it! See you guys soon!


	10. JungRi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it, guys. We finally did it. Ten chapters without any prolonged hiatuses in between. I kept to my schedule! LOL. 
> 
> First, I really, REALLY hope that this finale meets your expectations - I know that there were a few that wanted a cute, fluffy happy ending, so I hope this delivered! ^^ And a big thank-you to all of you who have left encouraging comments, kudos, subscribed and placed this among your bookmarks. Really, I don't know what else to say other than I hope to do better with future stories ;_; 
> 
> Next, I have two bits of news to share! 
> 
> 1\. I am planning on taking a break from writing BangVelvet fanfiction for a little while. Don't worry guys, I will be back! I just need some time to recuperate after Ceasefire, Futile. Plus, I have at least six WIPs for stories in other fandoms, so I want to take some time with that and explore a bit more than just K-Pop. ^^;  
> Regardless, I wholeheartedly thank you for all the support that you've offered me over the past two-ish years of writing. <3 You guys are the best! I only hope I can reciprocate that with better writing, too, so thank-you for your patience in the meantime!
> 
> 2\. With that being said, I also now have an Instagram and Twitter! I would love to interact with you guys more rather than through just comments on Ao3 ;_; Plus, you guys are such a cute bunch and I'd love to be friends with you guys! :D Feel free to add me if you'd like:
> 
> https://twitter.com/junqris_  
> https://www.instagram.com/junqris_/?utm_source=ig_embed
> 
> And without further ado, please enjoy Chapter 10!

Any sane person _would_ believe that, after all the unnecessary trials that the rambunctious pair had overcome together, Kim Ye-Rim and Jeon Jung-Kook would finally ( _Finally_ ) put their stubborn hot-headedness and unyielding pride aside and – _oh, for the love of God and all things holy_ – learn to stop arguing over petty topics.

But then again, Yoongi thinks to himself, scrubbing his face with an open palm as he watches their never-ending spat resume within the private confines of his hospital room, it _is_ infamously unyielding for a particular reason. 

 

* * *

 

 

The first time, it occurs just a little after two-forty, with an immobile Jung-Kook, strapped uncomfortably to a stretcher, protesting weakly against Ye-Rims' obstinate adamancy to join them.

But oh, no. This wasn’t a simple case of ‘ _I’ll meet you at the hospital_ ’ (The place where she allegedly had developed some sort of phobia against); she wanted to _clamber aboard_ , with the paramedics in the cramped box of the rickety white vehicle, the interior air heavy with chemicals and pungent with 70% ethanol.

“I want to go with you!”

The two paramedics – one, a burly and muscular man with an inked dragon cascading through his forearm and into his bicep in swirls of gold and orange, and the second, a complete contrast to his partner with a willowy frame and noodle-like arms – watch, amused, as Jung-Kook cranes his head slightly from the pillow to quip back, “Y-you’re _not_! T-tomorrow!”

“Ugh, you can’t stop me!”

As the doors swing shut behind them, the lean man chuckles before jumping into the drivers’ seat, “A feisty one your lady is, isn’t she?”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” Jung-Kook groans. “Just watch. She’ll b-be there.”

The ambulance pulls out of the curb, the neon-green lights flashing vibrantly before disappearing beyond Ye-Rim's view. At once, she spins around on her heel and grasps a startled Nam-Joon by the shoulders, shaking the man vigorously. “Nam-Joon- _oppa_ , let’s go! Take me with you!”

“U-uh, but Kookie once said that you tend to act up when you’re in one?”

“N-no, I don’t!” But the somewhat frightened grimace spread across her face says otherwise. “And that’s _that_! C’mon! Let’s get going! We need to see that dimwit!”

Yoongi cocks his head to the side, bemused. “Uh, Rim. As much as I enjoy your Kook-Rim chemistry, I honestly don’t think you should be referring to him as a dimwit – ” But his mild complaint is brushed off when Ye-Rim grabs ahold of his forearm, tugging him urgently towards the navy-blue Honda Civic parked hazardously against the curb.

Yep, no point now:  Everything’s just going to evaporate in her ear canal.

The second time happens at around three-ten, after an eventful half-hour drive with Nam-Joon navigating expertly through somewhat busy streets (On a Saturday morning, mind you!), trailing after the noisy van that clearly had the right of way compared to the other cars on the road.

“C’mon! Can’t we take a short-cut?” 

Ye-Rim, of course, was being her demanding, pushy self as per usual, propping her arms on her elbows with her head sticking dangerously near Yoongi’s elbow in shotgun. 

“ _Y-yah_!” Yoongi yelps. “What in the fu – Rim, _sit your damn ass down and buckle your damn seatbelt, you crazy kid!_ ”

“But look!” She argues, pulling out her phone with Google Maps on full display. “It says that – “

“ _STOP BACKSEAT DRIVING!_ ”

Nam-Joon's sudden outburst does manage to shut her up. For a while, anyway – until they reach the hospital in record time (With the lanky man’s hands shaking in fright as he tries to remove his sticky palms from the steering wheel). Right away, the petite girl rushes out of the vehicle before Nam-Joon can turn the engine off, bolting straight for God-knows-where.

The two remaining passengers exchange wary looks with one another.

“Oh, let her,” Yoongi tuts, unbuckling the strap. “It’s not like she’ll pay for parking, anyway – “

And Ye-Rim emerges a second later, slapping the tiny white slip onto the dashboard with a force so strong that Nam-Joon had half the heart to sue her for any cracked windshield damages.

“Let’s go!”

Alrighty, then.

Two things were for sure:  One, Yoongi really needs to eat his words and two, that girl’s a walking, talking jack-in-the-box. She just never fails to shock them.

As the trio steps into the bright front entrance with attractive, young nurses pondering about the lobby with their checklists and stethoscopes, Yoongi immediately senses a tight hand latch onto his wrist painfully. Glancing beside him at the petite girl, he asks with a raised eyebrow, “C’mon, Rim. You’re not going to faint on us, are ya?”

To which she just shakes her head with hardened determination. “N-no! I – am – _fine_!”

“Okay. Let’s go, then.”

Nam-Joon greets the fatigued clerk with a charming eye-smile. “We’re looking for Jeon Jung-Kook. He was accompanied by ambulatory care.”

“Oh.” The brown-haired man types the name into his computer, relaying, “He’s in – actually, he’s just coming in right now.”

“Wait. We made it _before_ him?”

“See, Rim?” Yoongi chuckles. “Google Maps doesn’t mean shit – eh?” His arm suddenly lies slack, and pattering footsteps forces him to whirl around and call out to the blonde, dashing straight for the stretcher wheeling towards them. “ _Rim_?”

There’s a hint of a teasing smirk on both of the paramedics’ scruffy faces (A little bit wider on the thickset man) when Jung-Kook demands hoarsely, “Home! Go – _home_!”

Huffily, Ye-Rim wraps her fingers around the stainless-steel bar in a vice-like grip, clearly displaying no signs that she would ever budge. “Just ‘cause you tell me to doesn’t mean jack-shit!”

All the while, that same broad-shoulder EMT chuckles, slapping a porky hand against his leaner compadre. “Ten-thousand _won_ , bud. Now pay up.”

“Oh, trust me. This is the type of money that I’m willing to pay. You can’t _buy_ entertainment this good.”

The third time, the voracious fire was ignited once more with the presence of a relatively beautiful doctor. Just a few minutes after their arrival, the curtain to Jung-Kook's bed is drawn shut, concealing the injured youngster from the curious trio.

Their attempts to peer in between the minuscule gaps of the drapes ultimately proves futile as a stern cough (A high-pitched ‘ _ahem_ ’ that sends chills up all their spines) erupts behind them.

Scorning deeply, Yoongi grumbles, “ _Now_ , what – ?” But once he whirls around, finding himself standing face-to-face with the one and only Korean actress that managed to steal his ice-cold heart, his knees suddenly threaten to buckle in weakness and he subsequently trips into Ye-Rim's outstretched arms.

“Jesus Christ! What is with you, Yoongi- _oppa_?!”

Yoongi’s lips tremble into a babble of incoherent words that never leave his vocal cords. For the ever passive Yoongi to be taken aback by some amazing spectacle with a reaction as great as this one, well, this _must_ be something.   

So, Ye-Rim looks up – only to find herself starstruck at the tall, lean woman standing before her. God, some people are just born with all the luck in the world, aren’t they?

“S-Song? Song Hye-Kyo?!”

Dubious, the striking physician raises an eyebrow and corrects briskly, “While I’m flattered, that’s obviously incorrect. Dr. Kang _Do_ -Yeon, at your service.” Running a hand through the ends of her ponytail, she emits out a somewhat pretentious cough and reactively, the three steps aside to make way for her entry.

“ _Damn_ , son.” Yoongi’s eyes never stray away from her backside as he mutters as quietly as possible. “She can stab me with all the syringes she can grab her hands on for all I care.”

“Yoongi- _oppa,”_ Ye-Rim tuts, her tone distasteful. “Ogle all you want at our fellow Descendants of the Sun stand-in actress, but fan-boy within the privacy of your bedroom. She’s _married_.”

“Probably to a Yoo Shi-Jin lookalike, mind you,” Nam-Joon adds, squinting to get a better look at her ring (At least, that’s what Ye-Rim _hoped_ it was what he was focusing on). “So, stop it with your creepy staring!”

“ _You’re_ staring, too, you idiot!” Yoongi accuses roughly.

”Yeesh! When did I – ”

The curtain suddenly pulls open to a strict Dr. Kang Do-Yeon, arms crossed against her dark-blue scrubs (Of all the names that her mother could’ve gone with, it just had to rhyme with that spunky character. Do-Yeon:  **_Really_**?). Nam-Joon's back stiffens as she observes them with a skeptical glaze penetrating deep through her honey-brown eyes. “Are you all – ? No, that’s not right. You aren’t immediate family, are you? You, on the right – you could be his brother. And you, in the middle:  Maybe an uncle?”

 _Uncle?! Fucking hell._ “I uh – well, uh – “ Yoongi gives Ye-Rim a rough shove in the small of her back. “Go on, Rim.”

“I um – “

Jung-Kook's weak splutter resounds from a foot away. “She!” Ye-Rim's eyes snap towards him with newfound surprise. What did he just say? “She – is – _family_!”

“Ah.”

Perusing Ye-Rim up and down, and then left to right. And then finally, a tender, feminine smile that spreads across her face. Despite her strict, no-nonsense demeanour, it appears that even the iron-willed Dr. Kang Do-Yeon has her soft moments, too. “Yes, I can see it.”

And then, a question that Ye-Rim had never expected to hear until at least some seven to eight years later:  “Are you his fiancée?”

A cherry-red blush explodes on her shell-shocked face, alongside a demanding outburst of, “In what world do I look old enough to be Kookpa’s wife?!”

“Fiancée,” Yoongi corrects quietly. “She said fiancée. _Not_ wife.”

“Besides,” Nam-Joon chaffs with a snort. “You clearly like it. Look at your ears. You look like a walking tomato.”

“ ** _I DO NOT_**! Tell her!”

(But yeah. Secretly, within the deepest, darkest chambers of her heart, she surmises she isn’t too bothered by her new mistaken identity.)

And now, some hours later with Jung-Kook peacefully tucked into bed with a complicated array of plastic tubes and wiring connected to various parts of his body – the heart monitor displaying a steady blip-blip-blip of activity, his left hand and torso immobilized by the bulky plaster cast – they were _still_ going at each other's throats like there was no tomorrow.

Nam-Joon clears his throat dutifully, saying, “Dr. Kang.”

_(“Kookpa. Your pillow – “ “ **Yaish**! This is comfortable!” “It’s digging into your spine, you dummy! Scooch! I’m going to adjust it for you!” “Don’t tickle my ass while you’re there!”)_

The professional doctor, unfazed by the uproarious racket filling the hospital room, checks off a number of items on her clipboard before replying, completely strait-laced, "Yes?”

_(“In your dreams, bastard! As if I want to touch your ass!” “It’s a privilege! Honour it!”)_

“Do you have any aspirin?”

“Too many painkillers in one sitting will not do you too well, Nam-Joon- _sshi,”_ Dr. Kang advises snappily. “You’re still alive and standing upright, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes, but – “

_(“Do you want water?” “No.” “Your lips tell a completely different story.” “Juice.” “No. Too high in sugar!”)_

“Earplugs. They’re in the hallway.”

Nam-Joon and Yoongi weren’t stupid idiots. They detected the ulterior motive hidden within her instructions. And so, without uttering another word, they follow behind the physician’s footsteps silently. “They will never be done at the rate they’re going,” Dr. Kang explains, letting a firm smile grace her face. “Let’s leave them be.”

“Say, Dr. Kang. Would you, perhaps, be interested in joining our fan-club?”

“A fan-club, you say?”

Nam-Joon rolls his eyes, smacking his older friend in the back of the head. “Yoongs, are you stupid?”

“Actually, I’m more than intrigued. My last experience doing so was the year before I joined medical school, fawning over the likes of KARA, 2NE1 and doing cover dances to Abracadabra at my university festivals. Tell me more.”

But once they leave and make their exit, things begin to change within the dimly-lit room.

 

* * *

 

 

“Here,” Ye-Rim offers, helping Jung-Kook gulp down some water to soothe his parched throat. Setting it down onto the bedside drawer, Ye-Rim draws the visitors’ chair closer, her eyes growing incredibly misty as she observes him from head to toe. “It hurts.” It doesn’t come out as a question, only a statement.

“Well, if that ain’t the obvious,” he chuckles softly, displaying the briefest flicker of pain as he tries to shift his body to the side. Bad idea:  The shoulder sling was much too tight to bear. “Every single part hurts.” 

Getting to her feet, Ye-Rim scolds with a softer voice than he’s ever heard before, “Don’t move! Let me get – what do you need?” Jung-Kook, in turn, watches in amusement as the younger girl flubs around, pacing back and forth. He’s never seen her like this – _ever_. It’s a welcome change, firstly, and secondly:  Boy, was this a feast for the eyes. “Water? Or, is it food? You have to be hungry, right? I’ll run down to 7-11 and grab you a coffee if you want – “

“No.” Shaking his head, he repeats firmly, “No, no. Sit down, you weirdo.”

And once she does, Ye-Rim's outstretched hand extends forward to cup his bandaged cheek gently. The last few hours had been brutally _and_ mentally exhausting – not just him, or his Yoongi- _hyung_ or Nam-Joon- _hyung_.

But the poor girl, the biggest victim in the situation: The one who ended up storming into the supermarket in the nick of time just to save him from the brink of death, the one who accompanied him to the hospital at reckless speeds, even though she herself harbored a phobia of them.

And she’s also the one who’s smiling at him now with all the affection that she could muster through her wet eyes, offering her thanks with comforting touches.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

Out of the corner of his eye, Jung-Kook watches as his pulse quickens to a maddening one-hundred and ten. Oh, God. Oh, my God. This is _not_ the best time to have his heartbeat analyzed.

“You. You look d-damn tired,” he stutters, craning his neck to the side stiffly. “Get Joonie- _hyung_ to take you home later, alright?”

His latter instructions seem to disappear in her ear because all she replies with is an airy laugh that forces the blood to rush straight to his cheeks. “I’m sure that as horrible as I look now, nothing comes close to how much suffering you went through, Kookpa.”

Even with her hand lifted from his cheek and interlaced in between the fingers of his uninjured hand, her touch continues to linger in the form of fuzzy sparks, erupting pleasurably through the gauze and onto his skin. “You’ve made me cry once. And the second time – “ Her voice falters as she squeezes his hand tightly.

All the while, the monitor begins to race erratically. _Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep._ One-hundred and twenty.

“Seeing you lying there, lifeless. You made me want to cry again, you know.” Glancing at him with hooded eyelids, she adds lowly, “You fucked up. _Twice_. I think that’s enough tears shed over one boy in a lifetime.”

“You’re _never_ going to let up on that, are you?” Sighing, Jung-Kook shrugs – or, _half_ -shrugs, because that’s all he can do right now without feeling sharp pangs of pain stabbing at his back. Honestly, when he envisioned having this discussion with her, this _wasn’t_ exactly what he had in mind:  Him, debilitated and nearly crippled, and her, staring him down akin to a feisty lion eyeing its weak prey.

Then again, he knows that he can’t avoid it forever. Ye-Rim deserved an explanation more than anyone; he’s put her on hold for far too long to be acceptable.

“Rim, I'm so – ”

“Y’know,” she interrupts, catching him off guard. “I bumped into Chae-Young- _unni_ on yesterday afternoon. We talked for a little bit.”

“Oh, yeah?” That captures his attention, leaving his well-rehearsed speech a jumbled mess (The perks of being a lawyer-in-training:  He can assemble something logical in the back of his mind without any cue cards). “Friday afternoon, huh? So, before the whole fiasco happened. Damn, I’m just surprised that you two didn’t fight over me.” 

“You really think that I’m that childish to pick a fight?” she chides, but Jung-Kook can see it: She’s biting her lip to keep herself from breaking out into laughter. That’s always a good sign, isn’t it? “ _Please,_ Kookpa!”

“I kid, I kid! So? what did she say? I’m curious.”

“Just, you know, a lot of things – ”

“Mmhmm. That's our Rim. Vague as always.”

“That made me question a lot of the mysteries that were left unsolved from the past.” Turning strangely subdued, Ye-Rim pauses for a few long moments before inhaling deeply. It wasn’t just Jung-Kook; clearly, a certain someone was also wracked with nerves. “Kookpa. I know this is probably the last thing you want to talk about, gosh , but – “

“Humour me.”

Turning her head to face him head-on, she asks, “Did you even _like_ me back then?”

Her question, soft yet filled with a detectable restlessness, surprises Jung-Kook. But instead of giving her a direct answer, he challenges with an inquiry of his own.

“Well, what do _you_ think?”

“Kookpa, that’s not fair at all,” she complains. “ _I’m_ the one who asked you. I want an answer from you.”

“As do I,” he replies. Taking a breath, he asks again, this time with a slight feel of mockery to his voice, “Let me put it this way. Was I that bad of a high school _some_?”

Thinking about it now – truthfully, without putting on any biased lenses – he wasn’t. Jeon Jung-Kook was the epitome of everything that a high school girl could ever desire in an entire lifetime:  Intelligibly witty, book-smart _and_ street-smart, incredibly handsome (Despite the round spectacles that he wore for his nearsightedness) –              

But all that was just added incentives. Sure, he spoiled her with ice-creams, and he would always wait until she was done with club activities before making the trek home with his arms wrapped around her bookbag like a gentleman – but what _truly_ left a long-lasting impression was nothing...physical.

That memory of him coming to her defense when Soo-Hyun was bullied – it remains etched in her mind, even now, clear as day.

But simultaneously, Ye-Rim realized that there was such a thing as being ‘too perfect’. Even for the incredibly faultless Jung-Kook, he wasn’t immune to the drawbacks of perfection, either:  The baseless rumours that circulated through school grounds, drifting through perked up ears, that he was one of those notorious types; the types to shatter hearts, patch it up with suave, charismatic words and just when it was on the verge of healing, he’d ruthlessly tear it open again and demolish it.

She was a testament to that – but now, she’s not sure whether she agrees with that sentiment, anymore.

“Everybody says that you lead me on,” she explains, wary of her tone turning defensive and accusatory. But the thing is, she can’t help herself. Perhaps it was from all those years without a proper resolution that’s made her so bitter, but there was no better time than now to draw out an explanation from him. “Soo-Hyunnie. So-Hyunnie. Even Soo-Young _unni_ warned me at the time to take care and be extra careful.”

“Wait, _what_?! Okay, hold up, hold up,” Jung-Kook argues, his expression perplexed. “I probably sound damn ignorant, but Rim, may I ask _why_?”

“She called you the Male Medusa.” Eyes widening, she then exclaims, “Wait, you didn’t know?! You were quite the legend back then!”

“I was just like any other high school kid, not some Cha Seung-Won lookalike! _Yeesh!_ ” Jung-Kook stammers uneasily, unsure whether to take in the new information as a genuine compliment or something else. Dumbly, he murmurs under his breath, “But I guess um – should I be _flattered_?”

“I’m astounded,” Ye-Rim comments. “Girls would grow maniacal over you whenever you tossed a smile!”

“Oh, okay, I see how it is. So apparently, just because I’m being polite means that girls would put me on a pedestal? That’s not what I want! Ugh, that’s not – Jesus!”

Ye-Rim chuckles. “Your fan-club would like to say hi.”

"That’s _ridiculous_.” Scoffing, he adds unconsciously, “Besides, it’s not like they’re helping me get paid.”

“I’d disagree. They’re makin’ it rain at that supermarket, dropping stacks of money on Lucky Charms and granola bars because of a certain Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome Grocery Clerk. I wouldn’t be shocked if you received a promotion after you returned to work for bringing in so much income.”

“Not that it matters,” Jung-Kook quips back, and then unconsciously (And rather loudly, mind you), “Besides! I like _you_. Not them! _My_ main concern is that you’re still keeping up with that diet of yours and that you’ve stuck with the yogurt and flax – “

Once he realizes what had just happened, he stops speaking all at once.

Oh.

_Oh, no._

Ye-Rim blinks.  So does Jung-Kook.  

In harmony, their eyelids flutter once.

Twice.

Thrice. 

And then, Ye-Rim's face breaks out into a wide, gummy grin, her heart soaring higher than it has ever done before as if a vacuum had just sucked away all of her lingering worries and her resentment (Or, whatever was left of it, anyway). Suddenly, their colourful past no longer seemed so important to her. “You said it.”

 _This cast. Too suffocating. Too – tight!_ “No.”

“You _said_ it!”

“Yeah. Okay. There. You heard me, loud and clear, you brat,” Jung-Kook grumbles. There’s a pinkish tinge highlighted on the apples of his cheeks, or – maybe not. Maybe it was just the slightest hints of daybreak, spreading across the bluish sky, penetrating the room with a warm afterglow from the incoming sunrise.

“Pink suits you, Kookpa,” she cackles.

“Does uh – does that settle any remaining thorns that I had left behind?”

“...Why are you talking like we’re in some Korean drama?” Laughing, she squeezes his cheek with her thumb and forefinger. She draws her hand away, letting the residual heat of his blush linger against her skin. “You _weirdo_.”

Gritting his teeth together, he retorts, “Will you _please_ just let me be somewhat romantic?”

“I still need to know, though. Just – _why_? Why did you – ?”

“It was not within my intentions to hurt you like that, Rim. Truthfully, I liked you. A lot.”

Her response is meek. “ _A lot_ , a lot?”

“A lot, a lot,” he reaffirms. “You inspired me, y’know:  To do better, to step up and truly think about my actions. You were such a breath of fresh air, compared to the ‘Yes Girls’ that I’ve met over time. With that being said, you were always two steps ahead of me; always thinking about the future. I just felt – “ Oh, what was the right descriptor for this? “ _Small_ compared to you.”

Her eyes narrow sharply. “ _Small_? What do you mean by that?”

“As in, I couldn’t offer you much.”

The new revelation leaves the younger girl thunderstruck, with her mouth falling agape. Still, Jung-Kook wistfully continues his narration, gripping her hand tightly as if in fear that she would recoil – or, even worse – run away.

“I felt that – if we continued our relationship, I would inevitably drag you down like a ball and chain. You wouldn’t be able to maximize your potential, but having said that, I knew you would be the type to fight for our relationship.”

“And _that’s_ why?” She asks in utter disbelief. “That’s why, you staged that whole shitshow?” Her bark – an amalgamation of hurt, fury with a touch of remorse – jarringly hits his ears. “It’s not your prerogative to determine what’s best for me, Jung-Kook- _oppa_. ”

“I know. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have done a lot of things that lead up to such an awful experience for you. I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for putting you through so much pain.” He pauses. “God. That’s all I can say. I’m sorry. I’m truly, _truly_ sorry.”

“ _God_ , you’re imbecilic.”

“Yell at me all you want. I’m sure I deserve it.”

But the thing is, Ye-Rim can’t hold onto her grudge any longer. Iron-willed as she may be at heart, even her mask has to crumble under these circumstances – especially with her Kookpa looking at her like _that_. Instead, she sighs heavily, letting her thumb run over a tiny scab on the backside of his hand. “You should never assume things, Kookpa. You should’ve just asked me at the time. We could’ve at least worked out your insecurities – or _something_!”

“Well, is it too late to ask now?”

“Back then, all I wanted was to just be with you,” she admits, letting a small smile slip onto her face. “I was – happy, you know? Being together gave me a lot of joy, and while I did hate you for a while, I couldn’t bear to tell my parents the truth on why we fell apart.”

“Why’s that?”

Ye-Rim shrugs. “I don’t know. Teenage Rim was a strange, strange girl. Although unconsciously, I was probably holding onto some piece of hope – no matter how tiny that fragment may be – that maybe you were doing it with good intentions. I’m just glad it didn’t turn out false.”

“The execution was very poor, though,” he points out. Ye-Rim sends a glower in his direction, and he finds himself shirking away, closing his eyes in fear of her potential furor.

“Hella poor,” she snaps, but it's with a softer tone when she adds, “But the past is in the past because right now is what matters. And as for now, I think I’m alright with the concept of being with you again.”

His eyes burst open. _Wait._

And without any more words exchanged between the two of them, Ye-Rim edges closer towards him and daintily, presses her lips against his forehead. “Try to stage a break-up with me again, and you’re in for it, Kookpa. I mean it.”

_Beep beep beep beep beep._

Meanwhile, one-hundred-and-forty pops up on the cardiac monitor, bleeping at a breakneck pace with no signs of decreasing any time soon.

 

* * *

 

 

And standing, just outside of the hospital room without making a single peep, Min Yoongi and Kim Nam-Joon both exhale, their breaths full of relief and their smiles toothy.

“Took them long enough.”

“I never want to play matchmaker ever again. It’s stressful shit.”

“Same.”

“...We’re still going to make enamel pins though, right?”

“Of course. We _need_ to capitalize on this business.”

 

* * *

 

 

It started to snow in the first week of December – on a late Wednesday afternoon – descending upon the streets of Seoul in a peaceful white blanket after Ye-Rim had finished her (Hopefully) final interview with the police. For once, she would actually be more gleeful to face pages of text for hours rather than speak until her throat grew sore or worse, watch replays of that horrendous clip over and over.

Suffice to say, It’s been a chaotic few days, running back and forth between the few places that she did not wish to call home:  The precinct, with smelly, overweight officers lingering around their desks with lit cigarette butts in their mouths; the lawyer’s office, immaculate, pristine and organized with shelf upon shelf of archived files and then, of course, back to the university in preparation for her final examinations.

Whilst on campus, she was greeted with three pieces of news.

First, she was informed – after a somewhat heartfelt apology by the Dean of Chemical Engineering in the morning – that Lee Soo-Man had been sacked and was now undergoing investigation for bribery charges. Secondly, thanks to Jung-Kook's video recording, Lee Tae-Yong was officially expelled from the university and that he was going to be arrested for attempted murder and physical assault and bodily harm to another human being. The latter, she technically already knew, but that was just the tip of the iceberg though, she thinks to herself. An arrest did not guarantee his incarceration. 

However, with their combined testimonies (Seung-Hwan, Jeno, Yoongi, Nam-Joon, that barista from the coffeehouse) and the real-time footage of their bloodthirsty physical assault from that night, Ye-Rim's lawyer _did_ seem rather optimistic for the trial to come.

_“They’ll get their just desserts, and you’ll get your justice.”_

Things _that_ complex, she’ll leave for the judge – and benevolent Lady Iustitia – to decide upon Tae-Yong's fate. But perhaps, she thinks to herself with rejuvenated energy, things will turn out alright in the end. Jung-Kook took a risk that was unconventional, unorthodox and downright risky, but it paid off in the end, helping them bring Tae-Yong's tyranny to a bitter end.

And to think, she adds as an afterthought, she and Jung-Kook had both scraped past the clutches of death not once, not twice – but _three_ times already.

It’s telling that the universe wanted to see them alive – and maybe she’s just a little wishful, but maybe the universe, too, wanted to see them together.

Well, she surmises with a smile, it got what it wanted.

Third, the Dean pressed on, knocking Ye-Rim out of her train of thoughts, they were allowing her to request for examination hardship. “After all you’ve endured without our knowledge,” He had crooned empathetically with a rueful gleam to his beady eyes. “It’s the least we could do to help you.”

But all she responded with was a curt and sharp ‘ _no need_ ’. It’s not because she wanted to play the heroine, show off her bravery despite times of turmoil or display nobility that she was the bigger person.

Rather, if she took advantage of this benefit, she would be no different from Tae-Yong. Besides, she knows deep within her heart that they were only offering this incentive to shut her up. If she took it – God. That, in her opinion, was much worse than having to pull all-nighters just like the rest of her fellow classmates. 

“You should’ve taken it, anyway,” Jung-Kook chides when she went to pick him up from the hospital.

“And why would I do that?” She argues, throwing his belongings into a duffel bag haphazardly. “Boy, I’m telling you that I _earn_ my A’s through hard work and dedication!”

Dr. Kang had declared Jung-Kook ready for discharge after a brief check-up. His fractures were starting to heal up nicely, albeit, she warned, he wasn’t exactly in the proper position to return to full-time work – much less stock shelves or take examinations _just_ yet.

“You don’t need to tell me twice, Dr. Kang. But it’s all good. I can bear it.”

The kind-hearted doctor merely laughed before making her exit with a casual wave. “Well, I’m sure your ‘ _not-your-fiancée_ ' can attest to that.”

Only for Ye-Rim's horrified squeal to follow (With Jung-Kook guffawing heartily behind her whilst clutching his sides):  “ _D-doctor_!”

With an energetic pep to their steps, they make their way silently through the deserted hallway and into the crisp, wintry air. At once, Ye-Rim wastes no time in slinking her hand in between his, squeezing it as she asks cutely, “Now that you’re out and about, where do you want to go?”

“Just one place, actually. I don’t want to just sit back and rest at home. I’ve done enough of that; my ass is starting to hurt. Care to come along?”

Ye-Rim giggles, nodding. It’s not like he ever had to _ask_.

 

* * *

 

 

The grocery store was abuzz with elation when the bashful two stepped in, hand-in-hand.

But their initial reactions, frankly, were _more_ than hilarious.

Halfway through munching on his foot-long sub, the piping-hot sandwich falls out of Yoongi’s hands, plopping onto the ground pitifully as the lettuce and avocado slices spill out from the toasted bun. His delayed response came a second too late, which just added to the hilarity of the situation:  “Ah, **_fuck_**! My lunch!“ 

Nam-Joon, on the other hand, only looks up from his paperwork very briefly before nodding in approval with a Chesire Cat-like grin spread wide across his face. Indeed:  These two suited fluffy moments better than their childish yipping and yapping.

Ye-Rim places a large box full of pastries onto the customer service desk, and almost immediately, her body is engulfed in a warm, friendly embrace from Rosé, knocking her out of Jung-Kook's grasp (Much to his disdain).

“Ye-Rimmie!”

“ _Unni_!”

“How in the _world_ did you two become such close friends?”

“You can never have too many friends, Kookie- _yah,_ ” Rosé says matter-of-factly, patting the younger girls’ head in a series of up-and-down movements.

Growing jealous at Ye-Rim's satisfied grin, Jung-Kook gently shoulder checks the taller girl away, standing in front of Ye-rim in an almost protective manner. “ _Yah_. That’s _my_ trademark move.”

“You can shower her with kisses! Now, _get_!”

“No.” Jesus _Christ_ , was it hard to maneuver around with just one working arm. He will never take his limbs for granted ever again. “ _YOU_ stop stealing her away!”

“She’s not just _your_ favourite munchkin, Kook,” Nam-Joon tuts, slinging his arm around the younger girls’ shoulders. Wait, when did _he_ get there?! Reaching into the cardboard box for a fruit tart, the older man shoves it into his mouth, quickly displacing the crumbs with a brush of his hands before advising, “Learn to share.”

“Maybe so!” Jung-Kook admits, dragging a not-so-reluctant Ye-Rim away from touchy hands and into the crook of his uninjured shoulder. “Except you’re wrong about one thing there. I grew up as the youngest in my family. I’m quite possessive over things I like. And FYI, that does include people.”

“I would vomit,” Yoongi sings, joining the quartet. “But you know what, I’ll let my snide comments slide for today. Man, I never thought I’d live to see the day that our little boy is growing up.”

“ _So_ in love,” Nam-Joon croons.

“With _so_ much love!”

“ _Yah_ , you guys! Shut up!”

All would’ve been well that afternoon with their idle chatter –

...Well, except for _one_ anomaly that had popped up without a warning, emerging from the back room with a furrowed brow and saggy eye bags.

Boss Man SSN – an acronym for ‘Superior Supermarket Nag’, AKA, Mr. Kim Seok-Jin:  A broad-shouldered, hazelnut-brown haired flower ~~boy~~ man with an incredible bicep circumference. Prior to his paternity leave, he was always energetic, spunky and full of vibrancy.

But now? The haggard man’s back is slumped over like The Hunchback of Notre Dame, itching his red eye and looking as if he had just aged ten years. Although, was that really anybody else's’ fault other than his bubbly little bundle of joy that woke up every two hours, screaming for milk? Jung-Kook was about to find out.

Hurrying over towards him in an overconfident stride, he greets in an echoey bellow, “ _Hyung_! So good to see you!”

The youngster was expecting everything else – from a pat on the shoulder to an awkward one-armed hug – but...

To receive a thwack around the head:  _That_ was probably the last thing on his mind.

“You!” Seok-Jin screams loudly. “Jeon Jung-Kook! You _fool!”_

“Alright. I know, I know,” Jung-Kook sighs, slipping away as smoothly as possible towards a terrified-looking Ye-Rim. “I made a mess of the place. My apologies.”

Fatherly instincts on full display, he comes bounding towards them like an oversized frill-necked lizard, shouting, “I’m _not_ talking about that, you brat! What I mean is, why did you think it was a good idea to risk your life like that?! **_Yeesh_**! I am so done with you kids!”

“I mean,” Chae-Young mutters inaudibly. “You have one to think about at home, too. You’ve got eighteen years to go – “

“I doubt my daughter would actually behave like delinquents like yourselves!”

“Delinquents? That’s harsh,” Nam-Joon sniggers. “Mind you, you wanted to play a bad boy during your university days.”

“Irrelevant!”

Ye-Rim nudges Yoongi in the ribs. “Has your manager been doing this the entire day?”

The tired security guard tips his head down once briefly. “...Yep. We’ve been getting earful after earful.”

“And, Yoongi!” Seok-Jin snaps, turning his attention to the guilty-looking redhead. “God, what on Earth were you thinking? Did you REALLY want to enact out a scene from Mr. & Mrs. Smith or something? Pretend to be a spy while you’re at it?! Oh, you **_brats_**! Just wait until I’m done with the paperwork and then – “

Just like that, Kim Seok-Jin immediately performs a one-eighty turn when his eyes fall upon the blonde stranger, standing a mere foot away from him. Ye-Rim's presence seems to throw him into a curve as he stammers nervously, spreading his perfectly trimmed mushroom cut here, there and everywhere, “Oh. Oh, uh, well, hello there! And you are – ?”

Jung-Kook responds by pulling her close against him. “I think it’s obvious.”

Brain short-circuiting, Seok-Jin sends a wary glance to Ye-Rim first, directing it back to Jung-Kook, and then to Ye-Rim once again.

“Nice to meet you. I’m uh, I’m Kookpa’s girlfriend!”

And the infamous pioneers of the Jung-Ri fan club proceed to collapse into each other's arms, bawling (Yoongi sniffling, but not like a technicality as tiny as that really matters), “SHE SAID IT! SHE REALLY, **_REALLY_** SAID IT!”

“Yeah, everybody hear that?!” Chae-Young hollers, clapping her hands together. The group of high schoolers, standing a good few meters away, send her judging expressions as she continues her announcement. “PSA! P-FREAKING-SA! Jeon Jung-Kook, the local Supermarket Heartthrob – “

“Great, more strange nicknames,” Jung-Kook mumbles with a palm against his forehead.  “Just what I needed after Male Medusa.”

“Shush!”

“He’s _taken_!” She continues without shame. “He’s taken for life! So, park it with the fan-club shit!”

To that, a flurry of skirts rolled up a little too high and dolled-up faces immediately burst into ugly tears, dashing out of the supermarket and dispersing this way and that into the streets.

Ye-Rim only stares at the spectacle that had just unfolded, dumbfounded, before saying, “Oh, _unni_ , I think uh – I think you just lost at least a one hundred dollars' worth of sales.“

“Not that I really care,” Nam-Joon chimes in. “We can make up for it with our pins.”

“...Wait. **_What_** pins are you talking about?!”

 

* * *

 

 

After their visit – with Seok-Jin providing Ye-Rim with wisdom on how to handle Jung-Kook (Although really, was that necessary?) and Chae-Young fussing (Maybe fawning was the more appropriate verb here) over the way that they were holding hands – Jung-Kook and Ye-Rim decide to stop by a nearby restaurant for dinner.

It wasn’t anything particularly fancy; just Okinawa-style _ramen_ and _gyoza._ A perfect meal for the biting winter attacking them through their thick jackets, but once their orders arrive, Jung-Kook doesn’t dive into his food just yet.

“Kookpa,” Ye-Rim says, noticing the way he was watching her. “What are you looking at?”

Funny. Nearly a month and a half ago, her trademark reaction would’ve been to grow defensive, and then proceed to smack him on the (Insert body part of choice), chiding him to get lost.

But now?

Jung-Kook smiles, and in turn, she, too, mirrors his glee with a cheerful grin right back at him. All those instances – their ridiculous quarrels, the unwarranted jealousy – seemed like old-aged history now. _Crazy_ history, to be precise, involving a lot more bruising and wounds than Jung-Kook would’ve preferred.

But they’re experiences nonetheless: Experiences that he wouldn’t want to share with anybody else – _but_ Kim Ye-Rim. 

“Nothing in particular,” he comments. “You look happy.”

“Well, that’s because I _am_ happy.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

Dipping her chopsticks into the salty broth, she teases with a playful wink, “What? Nothing snarky to say to me?”

And Jung-Kook replies genuinely, “Nah. Not today.”

As much as he enjoys her company, there are still certain things that he’ll keep secretive to himself. Like lingering thoughts in the back of his mind, vowing to keep that smile of hers intact.

Meal paid and stomachs full (Courtesy of Ye-Rim, because a) she had wholeheartedly insisted, and b) she decided on a last-minute whim to add a plate of freshly-fried _takoyaki_ ), Jung-Kook and Ye-Rim both agree to take the ‘ _long way_ ’ home.

In their eyes, though, it was just an excuse to spend more time together.  

They pass by a Korean barbeque restaurant along the way, and a sudden thought traipses from the taller man's mind. “Hey. Were there things that you wanted to do with me back then?”

Shooting him a withering glare, she snarks, “...Why do you make things sound so _damn_ dirty?!”

“It’s only dirty if you make it dirty,” he points out, nudging her with his unrestrained elbow. “But, c’mon, you must’ve had a bucket list or something. Like, go to Seoul Tower, write a cringy love lock that will never last, wear matching headbands to Lotte World. That kind of stuff!”

“ _Yah_. Those are kiddy dreams.”

“Give it a whirl. There has to be something.”

“Oh, there is,” she nods, pausing. Curling her thumb underneath her chin, she takes a moment to brainstorm briefly before adding, “Oh. You should visit my parents again! My sisters miss you.”

Jung-Kook laughs. “I prefer their oldest sibling, actually, but – **_OW_**!  What?! I didn’t say I wasn’t going!”

“Stop saying embarrassing stuff!”

And as they continued their trek onward to her apartment flat, the number of times that they initiate squabble after squabble with one another never seemed to diminish.

“I just realized,” Ye-Rim says. “I never finished your video game.”

“Which one?”

“Yakuza, obviously! I need to finish the ending! You know what? Just give me your Playstation 4. I’ll return it.”

“Uh-huh,” Jung-Kook mutters, disbelieving of his girlfriends’ words. “When?”

“...Eventually.” 

“Get your **_OWN_** PS4, you brat!”

Ye-Rim realizes, perhaps some things will never change between the two of them.

And Jung-Kook approximates that they’ll probably fight even more as they continue their relationship. Hell, this was only _day one_ – and already, they’re biting at one another about her potential enrollment in cooking lessons.

“I'm astounded.”

“Why, thank-you!”

“I didn’t finish,” Jung-Kook reprimands. “What I meant to say was, how have you been living by yourself for two years and survived this long without properly cooking for yourself?!”

Ye-Rim takes a deliberate giant step away from Jung-Kook, her expression arranged into a scornful frown. “Ugh. _Rude_. My doctor tells me this with his reminder e-mails already.”

“Cooking is an integral skill that everybody should learn, Rim- _ah_! I had to do it when I moved out of the dormitory ‘cause I didn’t want to continually eat greasy, oily pizza slices that were left on the radiator for a bit too long.”

“I like radiated pizza, though – “

“Not on my damn watch!” He orders gruffly. “Your lessons are starting the Thursday after your examinations are over. Don’t even try to argue with me.”

“Okay! I won’t!”

“Of course you – eh, what?”

A wicked smile slips onto her face. “I get to stare at your ugly mug and make fun of it for at least two hours. It’s more of an incentive for me, really!“

 _Too good to be true, damnit._ Still, he doesn’t protest when he feels her linking her arm in between his. It just – feels better with her attached at his hip. “...Now that’s just cruel.”

But once they reach the entrance to Ye-Rim's apartment complex, they both come to an agreeable, silent consensus:  That was just how their relationship functioned – strange as it was – and they happily wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Well, Jung-Kook could make do with an actual kiss from her before saying good-bye; she didn’t really look up to it though, skipping away and leaving a two-meter gap between them. Plus, he’d rather drop dead than fling nauseating _aegyo_ in her face again to ask for one:  Once bitten, twice shy.

“I guess I won’t be seeing you until your exams are over then, huh?” He asks, toeing the pavement with the tip of his shoe.

“I tend to study better in silence, but then again I wouldn’t say no to getting distracted by a certain someone.”

“Oh? And who would that be?” Lies. Who else would it be but _him?_ And he’s awfully smug about it, too, grinning victoriously as he adds a self-compliment. “He sounds astoundingly charming.”

“Someone,” she jokes, winking at him. “Someone that I love – “

It seemed as if all time had stalled at that exact moment. That one syllable seems to ripple a chain of reactions so hilarious that it seemed ludicrous to any observant passerby's eye:  The leftovers the blushing girl had been carrying drops to the ground; her counterpart, on the other hand, begins to stammer with a pink tinge erupting on his face, “W-WHAT?!”

“I mean, someone that I really, really, really _like_!” Ye-Rim backtracks, quickly retrieving the plastic bag with both hands. Hiding it in front of her face, a babble of words – excuses, Jung-Kook would call it – escapes her throat in a high-pitched squeal. ”Uh, you know, because – because I appreciate you! And y’know, I – you’re a piece of work, but I really, really, _really_ like you, anyway!”

The silence that eventually descends upon them leaves her self-conscious. Oh, who is she even _kidding_?

Unbeknownst to her, Jung-Kook silently creeps towards the hysterical girl, taking the container away from her hands. Ye-Rim immediately falls quiet when he takes ahold of her cheek, pinching softly.

“No fair,” he says. “Let me say it first.”

“...E-eh?”

And curving his arm atop of his head to form a deranged half-heart, he announces (Loudly, for the world to hear, because that’s what his girlfriend deserved), “I’ll say it as many times as God will allow me to. I love you, Rim!”

His declaration leaves her a complete mess of emotions all at once:  Baffled, shell-shocked (Not just shocked, oh, no), embarrassed, cherished.  But once it processes in her mind, the only reaction her body found acceptable was to screech with her clenched fists flailing. “Oh, my God! Yeesh! Have some tact! You can’t - you can’t just throw that word around like that!”

“We nearly died _three_ times,” Jung-Kook points out as if it were obvious. “If I don’t say it now, who knows what will happen? Maybe I’ll get run over by a car next – “

“ _Aish_! You idiot! Don’t say that!”

And the next moment, Ye-Rim comes hurtling forward, barreling into the left side of his torso, screaming just as loudly into his thrumming chest, “And...and I love you, too! Now, _get_! Go home!”

 

* * *

 

 

Although truth be told, she didn’t leave for her apartment _just_ yet.

In actuality, they hugged a _few more times_ after that –

“M-mainly because I want to make sure you get a taxi!”

“Sure, Rim. Sure.”

 

* * *

 

 

 _To: Rim_  
_Sent At: 9:21 P.M._

_See you tomorrow?_

_To: Kookpa_  
_Sent At:  9:31 P.M._

_Nope =P Never._

_To:  Kookpa_  
_Sent At:  9:35 P.M._

_Not unless you specify the time._

_To:  Rim_  
_Sent At:  9:36 P.M._

_Bitch._

_To: Kookpa_  
_Sent At: 9:59 P.M._

♥

 _To:  Kookpa_  
_Sent At: 10:00 P.M._

_Don’t make me send it again._

_To:  Rim_  
_Sent At: 10:02 P.M._

♥

 

* * *

 

  
  


End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always feel a little bittersweet at the end of a multi-chaptered story ;_; But, all's well that ends well for JungRi, I guess!  
> Thank-you so much for reading and for keeping up with this story since its inception back in February. Truly, I wish I could offer you more than just words of gratitude. 
> 
> See you guys soon! <3


End file.
